Weak for You
by robstar13
Summary: The Winchester brothers only have one weakness, and that's each other. (WARNINGS: Underage Weecest, Wincest, violence, self harm, suicidal thoughts, dubious consent, gay sex and straight sex, alternate universe, angst, bottom Sam. Very dark themes.)
1. Prologue: Part One

**Disclaimer: I do not condone these acts. This is just a work of fiction. Please read summary for possible trigger warnings.**

* * *

It started off small. Just glances that lasted too long and touches that lingered. When Dean took the time to think back, he figured it was inevitable. And that was just the sad truth. With the way their life was set up, all Sam and Dean had was each other. No friends or family besides Dad, but he was absent most of the time. He wasn't there to witness the progression of his son's relationship.

He wasn't there the night little Sammy, at just thirteen, came into Dean's bed crying about a nightmare. Their father was never there, so it was Dean's duty to calm Sam. So Dean held his little brother close, stroking his too long hair and letting him know that it was all going to be okay.

"De.." Sam shifted so he could look up at Dean, his face wet with tears, glistening in the moonlight. _Beautiful_.

Dean knew it was done then, that there was no way he'd be able to hold back.

"Yeah, Sammy." Dean whispered as he leaned in, his hand already cupping Sam's warm cheek. He watched as his brother's eyes fluttered shut when their lips touched. Dean was overwhelmed with emotions, with how wrong it was, how wrong it was that he needed it. He needed Sammy and so he kissed him lovingly, like he knew he wouldn't do with anyone else.

That was the night of their first kiss, the real and true start of it all. Dean made sure to stop it at just a kiss then, urging Sam to go to sleep. Thinking about Sam that way, in a sexual way, made him panic. It also made him shamefully hard, but he chose to cling to the panic and the guilt, in the hopes it would give Sam time to walk away.

Dean really should have known that it wouldn't have been that easy. That long make out sessions wouldn't be enough for his hormone filled little brother. It had been a year before Sam asked for anything more and Dean was fine with waiting until he heard those words slip from his Sammy's mouth.

"Dean, please." Sam gasped, his lips slick and slightly swollen from their kiss. Dean's mind was a little fuzzy at first, as it always was when he and Sam got like that. He blinked down at the fourteen year old's position. He hadn't even noticed when Sam threw a leg over his thigh, but he sure noticed when the boy started to grind against it, panting and moaning softly.

It shouldn't have been so hot but it was, and Dean finally noticed his painful erection that he refused to acknowledge during the year.

"Shit, Sammy." Dean groaned, his hands moving on their own accord and landing on Sam's hips. "I-I dunno, man.." He gave weakly, so weak in fact that his brother wasn't even listening.

"I've tried to wait, but, but it hurts! Hurts so much, De. Need you so bad."

Dean shut his eyes and took in a deep, shaky breath. It was wrong, so fucking wrong how much he wanted Sam. How badly he wanted to fuck Sam into this dirty old couch in this abandoned cabin. Sam's begging broke down whatever walls he had up, but he knew for a fact that they wouldn't go that far, no matter how much Sam begged.

He was still so young. He didn't know shit but neither did Dean. All the eighteen year old knew was hunting and his baby brother. "Okay." Dean sighed as he finally opened his eyes.

"Okay. I'm gonna take care of you, baby boy."

The younger Winchester's face lit up, dimples and all, and that made it all worth it. "Yes, please, Dean." Sam begged and Dean couldn't help but grin. He worked to unbutton Sam's jeans, his hands starting to shake once he noticed the wet spot on Sam's boxers.

"Damn.. You really want me, huh?" Dean's voice was almost breathless, like he couldn't believe it. His hand wrapped around the shaft, it was an already impressive size for his age.

"Yes, De!" Sam moaned, "Wanted you for so long, way before we even-oh god-" Sam's head fell onto Dean's shoulder as his brother pumped his length, his hips humping into the fist at a much faster pace. Dean moaned out at Sam's admission, and he couldn't even curse at himself for finding it so fucking hot that Sam wanted him for so long with how erratically the boy was moving.

"God, Sammy. Slow down, let me-" But before Dean could say another word, Sam screamed out his name, it echoed through the cabin, and suddenly Dean's shirt was covered in his little brother's spunk. Sam fell against Dean, boneless and tired. And all Dean could do was wrap his arms around him.

"Sorry. Couldn't hold it." Sam mumbled against Dean's neck. The older boy smiled fondly, the hand that he didn't just use to jack his brother off combing through sweaty strands of chestnut colored hair.

"It's okay, baby." Dean assured him, leaning back so he could leave a small kiss on Sam's cheek. He could feel Sam's content smile on his skin and those long fingers toying with the necklace Sam had got him.

Things were gonna be okay, Dean thought. What they were doing felt good and made them happy. It just wasn't fair that it was bad and wrong. it wasn't fair that life put them in a position to be that way.

But Dean also knew that it didn't matter. Even if their life was different, even if their mom didn't die a fiery death at the hands of a demon-the very thing that warped their father's mind and changed everything-they would have still found themselves in that moment. Maybe not in a run down cabin, but Dean would still be somewhere holding Sam just like that.

Because Sam was his. And Dean was Sam's. And there'd be nothing to change that.

So, Dean let himself get comfortable. He let himself fall deeper in love with Sam. He would even say in doing so, he became careless. Kissing Sam whenever he wanted, even if their dad was in the same house. He figured if there was at least a wall in between them, their dad would never find out. And it had worked, for awhile.

Dean knew not to be stupid, however. When John was around, it was only stolen kisses and rushed hand jobs in the dead of night. That was as far as Dean would let it go, even when the brothers were alone. Okay, there was the occasional blowjob, but it was mostly Dean doing it to Sam. He wanted his Sammy to feel good, and was so scared of accidently making Sam do something he didn't want to do.

It took a lot of begging on Sam's part for it to finally happen, and once it did, Dean wondered why he waited so long. His baby brother was better than any girl-or guy, he wasn't picky-he'd ever been with. Sam got on his knees and looked up at him, a playful glint in his slanted eyes.

"Are you sure, Sam? We can stop at any point." Dean reminded him for the millionth time, his fingers carding through Sam's hair. He shivered once he felt Sam's hands wrap around his length, something he was already used to, but the promise of something new had him on edge. Sam answered by giving the head a nice lick, sucking up the pre come pooling at the slit.

"Jesus, baby.." Dean groaned, gruff and low. He could see Sam shiver and palm at his own hard on. He was about to tell Sam that he could jack himself off if he wanted, but was left mute once those pretty little lips took in the head of his cock. Sam took it in greedily, as much as he could without coughing. The pace was a little fast and just a little sloppy, but it was still one of the hottest things Dean Winchester had ever experienced.

Sam's mouth, Sam's tongue and Sam's fucking eyes threw Dean right over the edge. He came hard, his grip tight in his little brother's hair and he just took it all, swallowing every last drop. When he finally pulled away from the softening length, Dean scooped him up and kissed him deep, not even caring that he could taste himself on Sam's tongue. His brother moaned happily into it, his long arms wrapping around his big brother's shoulders.

"Love you so fucking much, Sammy." Dean whispered as he pulled away. And it wasn't even the afterglow talking. He loved his brother more than anything. More than hunting, more than the Impala that he got for his sixteenth birthday, and way more than dad. Of course, their love was something different, something that went way beyond family.

"I love you, De. More than anything." Sam mumbled and Dean almost wanted to cry. He didn't though, for the sake of his pride, and just sat his baby boy down and returned the favor.

Sam was fifteen when he started to ask for Dean to fuck him. Well, it started off as asking, but it quickly progressed into never ending begging. Dean usually couldn't say no to those puppy dog eyes, but that was where he drew the line. That was until their dad had a case in North Carolina, nearly a year later.

"Dean," Sam whispered one evening during a rather intense make out session. "Mhm?" Dean gave as he peppered kisses over his Sammy's cheek and neck. Dean's mind was in that hazy state again, his hands absentmindedly running over his brother's bare chest.

"It's my birthday." Sam said lightly, his fingers running through Dean's short hair. His big brother looked up at him with a lopsided grin.

"I know that, doofus. You got your present already." Dean said as he motioned toward the small dining table in the middle of the motel room. Dean had taken chunk out of his savings and got Sam a new laptop. He'd been so grateful that he threw himself in Dean's arms almost immediately. Which was how they found themselves on one of the beds with Sam on top of him.

Sam rolled his hips at the insult and it made Dean moan in surprise, "Shut up." Sam said, but there was no heat to it, just that playful glint in his eyes that his big brother loved so much.

"I'm.. I'm sixteen. It's the age of consent in North Carolina." Sam's voice was small and light, like he was nervous about something. Dean was more than a little confused.

"Okay, and that's supposed to make what we do less illegal?" Dean hoped it didn't come off in a mean way. It was just a fact. Thinking about how young Sam was when it all started always made Dean feel guilty, so he chose to push that thought away and focus on the fact that they were brothers. He was pretty sure that was illegal in most states. So no matter how you spun it, what they were doing was wrong in the eyes of the law and that was just the cold hard truth.

Sam only rolled his eyes. He had always been unphased by the rules of it all. "Whatever." Sam sighed as he rolled his hips again, making sure to press his bottom right on Dean's hard dick. The older Winchester let out a grunt and glared as his tease of a brother.

"I just need you, De. Need you all the way, need you in me. I know you think I'm too young but I promise I'm not." Sam was practically pouting, his movements still working at a too slow pace, driving Dean insane. He took in a deep breath and shook his head. He sure _sounded_ too young.

It made sense to Dean in that moment why Sam brought it up. Another begging session, _fan-fucking-tastic, _Dean thought with a sigh.

"I love you, Dean. You gotta know that you're the only one I'd wanna do this with." Sam whispered in his big brother's ear, his lips ghosting by the shell of it, licking gently. Dean shivered and gripped tightly at Sam's hips, but not enough to actually stop the grinding. He was weak, he knew this. Especially with Sam professing his love to him, telling him how badly he needed Dean.

He couldn't help but imagine it. Sam on the bed, naked, legs spread all for him. He'd be so tight and warm and better than anything he'd ever had and that was both amazing and scary. It'd feel so good, he knew this, but they couldn't..

But maybe he could at least do something else, something close to what Sam wanted.

"Get naked." Dean growled and Sam didn't question him. He took off his shorts and boxers and laid down on his back, excitement rolling off him in waves. Dean smiled and kissed his forehead.

"Sorry, baby boy. We're not doing that." He could hear the whining start already. "We're doing something close though. You'll like it, I promise." He gave his pouting brother a quick kiss before lowering himself. "On your hands and knees."

Sam blushed at the order but did as he was told, his face down and ass up like a damn porn star and Dean couldn't help but curse. Sam's bottom was gorgeous, and smooth to the touch. Dean kneaded into the flesh, massaging into it because that's what Sammy liked . Pushing into his hands and moaning into the pillow, he was already leaking onto the seats and it made Dean decide to stop wasting time and pull the cheeks apart.

"Fuck, Sam.." Dean mumbled once he saw the tight little hole. It was so pretty, so perfect, and everything in the older Winchester wanted to ruin it. He wanted to fuck it loose, make it all pink and swollen and _fuck_-he really had to lose that train of thought. Instead he just used his tongue and licked down the crack of Sam's ass, skimming past the rim and down the perineum. He'd done this before, with guys and girls, and he knew exactly how to do it to get it done just right.

And as usual, it was better with Sam. Dean figured it'd always be like that.

"Oh, my god-what?" Sam gasped at the unfamiliar feeling. It turned into pure whimpering by the time Dean got around the to the rim, slicking it up with spit before sticking the muscle inside, the tightness sucking him in like a vice.

"D-Dean!" Sam moaned, his body already shaking, "God, De.. Yes!" He always sounded so young when he used that nickname, and Dean hated to admit how turned on that made him. But he was already eating his little brother's ass-Sam rutting into it, begging for more, _"Please!"_-there wasn't much to feel bad about anymore.

Dean had a rhythm of fucking his tongue inside and letting it out, and lapping at the loosening hole. Still so damn tight, just relaxing itself for Dean, and that made everything so much harder to resist.

He could tell Sam needed more. So he scooted up just a little bit, brought his fingers to Sam's red face. "Suck." Dean ordered, his voice gruff with obvious arousal. Sam's movements were a little sluggish but he followed through, sticking a digit in his mouth, slicking it up all nice and wet. Dean knew that it would be better with lube but he had none, and prayed that he didn't hurt him by accident.

"Good boy, Sammy." Dean praised once he got his hand back. He circled the rim, it was still wet and loosened from his tongue. "Gonna finger you, baby boy. Just relax and let me in. If it hurts too much, all you gotta do is tell me to stop and-"

"Dean just fucking do it, please! I need_ something!" _Sam begged, so desperate for anything Dean was willing to give, his hips bucking against his brother's fingers. Dean licked his lips and nodded, his finger breaching through. "God.." Dean moaned out loud. Sam showed little resistance but was still so tight and he just looked so damn pretty like that.

"Yes! More, more!" Sam's voice was muffled slightly but the pillows, but Dean could recognize the begging a mile away. Using his own spit that time, Dean added another finger, fucking into the tight pucker just how Sam wanted, hitting that sweet bundle of nerves every time.

"De-Dean-Can I, please? Need to-need to come!" Sam sobbed, his hand itching close to his red tipped cock, waiting for permission. Dean didn't know exactly when that started, Sam at one point just started asking him if he could come or not. The only thing Dean really knew was that it was so sexy being in control of that. Watching his baby brother squirm and beg was a sight to behold. Yeah, Dean would complain about his begging sometimes, but in the right context it was fucking hot.

Dean didn't want to deny him this that time. So he just leaned forward and peppered kisses all over his shoulder blades. "Come for me, baby boy."

Sam didn't need to be told twice. He jacked himself and thrusted back against those fingers and then he was gone. He came with a scream, shooting his load against the sheets. Dean just watched in awe as his baby brother's body spasmed and suddenly went slack, breathing heavily into the pillows.

Dean's dick was so hard it hurt. His mind was fuzzy as he stripped himself, barely even comprehending what he was doing. "Not gonna stick it in, just gotta.. oh fuck.." Dean mumbled as he slid his cock in between Sam's cheeks. His hips moved, the head of his cock catching at the rim. Dean was so fucking weak. So weak for his baby brother and it was so bad, so wrong, he couldn't let himself go that far-

"Just do it, Dean. Please." Sam said, his voice light and breathless from his orgasm. Dean licked his lips and shook his head, his resolve crumbling by the second.

"I don't have condoms.." It was his only chance of backing out. He always used them whenever he had a hookup. He hoped Sam felt the same, but he knew that wouldn't be the case as he thrusted back against his length.

"You don't need them with me, Dean. You're my first and I know you always use condoms when you.. you know." Dean could detect the jealousy in Sam's tone and he felt guilty for a new reason.

"I'm so sorry, baby.. You know you're the only one I want." And it was true, so fucking true, no matter how cliché it sounded. It was just that Dean was weak, a fact that had already been thoroughly established by then. He needed sex and for so long he denied Sam that. And Sammy was faithful, always faithful since he was thirteen years old and he just deserved so much better.

"Prove it."

It was a cheap tactic, Sam had to know that. But it was enough for Dean to finally break. "Get on your side. It'll be easier that way." Before he knew it, he was on his side behind Sam, kissing his neck and shoulders as he aligned himself with the wet entrance. He raised his hand to Sam's mouth and he already knew what to do as he licked and smeared his spit over the palm.

Dean slicked himself up, apologizing lightly for the lack of proper lubrication. Sam didn't care, "This is perfect. Please don't stop. Love you so much, De. Need you to fuck me." He babbled as he pressed himself against the head, almost pressing it inside. Dean gripped at Sam's hip to keep him still and finally moved, his cock head breaching through the too tight heat.

"Sammy, baby, so fuckin' tight-" How could he had possibly been with anyone else? He'd just gotten inside and it was already the best he ever had. He pushed in the rest of the way, slowly and gently, and Sam took him like he was born for it. "I'm in you, baby boy." Dean whispered as he kissed the shell of his little brother's ear. "You okay?"

It took a moment for Sam to respond and that got Dean worried. "Sam?" He propped himself on his elbow so he could look at him and his heart nearly broke. His baby brother was trying his best to blink back tears but some escaped and was running down the side of his flushed face. "Are you hurt?" Dean asked, worry laced in his tone. He knew this was a bad idea. How could he let himself-

"I'm good, Dean. So good." Sam sobbed, taking Dean out of his thoughts, "I know I'm cryin' like a baby right now, but please don't stop. I've just wanted this for so long.. had to watch you with other people.. Thought I wasn't enough." Sam admitted through a light murmur. Dean wrapped his arms around him and started moving at a slow pace, whispering apologizes and promises in Sam's ear.

"You are enough." Dean said, his voice gruff and deep, his hand running down Sam's muscled stomach and down his already hard length. "You always were enough. 'M just stupid. Have everything I need right here." Sam cried out in response, his head falling back on Dean's shoulder.

Dean was so deep inside of Sam, the tight heat sucking him in with each thrust. Sam was panting, mumbling, clawing at Dean's arms, "Harder, Dean. Gimme more." That was all Dean was able to catch and he groaned in response because yes, he needed more, too. He gave Sam a long kiss before turning him over and pulling his hips up, the same position that he was in before but this time Dean was finally in him, snapping his hips back in an almost violent pace. His hands ran over Sam's back gingerly, showing him some type of affection through it all.

Though it felt good-too good-he couldn't help but feel wrong. It was rushed, fucking him like that and just staring at the back of his head like he was some stranger. It almost felt like another one of his hookups and that just didn't sit right with him. Sam deserved a better first time that was he was being given. And that thought right there took over his weakness and made him stop and pull out.

"De..?" Sam's voice was slurred and muffled, obviously confused as to why Dean stopped. He groaned out as Dean flipped him over on his back, his eyes wide as he looked up at his brother. "Wha-" He was cut off by Dean's kiss, and it only took a second before he was wrapping himself around his brother and kissing back.

The older Winchester pulled Sam's knees up and pressed his way back inside, moaning deeply into the kiss at the same time as his baby. "God, baby boy." Dean moaned as he pulled back, "You're so beautiful like this." And it was true. Sam was sprawled out on the bed, legs wide and he was red, covered in sweat and chest heaving with each drawn out moan.

Sam's hands wandered over Dean's chest and toyed with the amulet, tugging hard as his back arched suddenly, "Dean! Oh shit. Right there, don't stop." His grip tightened around it and pulled Dean close again. "So close. Gonna let me come, De?"

"Fuck yeah, baby." He gave a hard thrust, watching as Sam's eyes rolled back, "Already so tight around me. M'not gonna last long after you. Gonna fill you up, Sammy." Their skin slapped together and the sound mingled with Sam's moans. He tugged Dean in by the necklace and kissed him as he came, coating their chests.

Sam's walls spasmed and tightened around Dean's cock, proving his statement true as he rode out his orgasm inside of his baby boy. The sensations were so much all at once, so fucking good and blissful that they hadn't even heard the familiar sound of crunching gravel beneath their father's truck. Dean's mind was only on Sam as he kissed him all over his face and pulled out slowly, as to not hurt the no doubt sore hole.

Sam looked up at him with hazel eyes full of love and wonder. His hands rested against his big brother's cheeks, "Dean." He said in a breathy whisper, a smile playing at his lips, so real and wide that his dimples were showing. Dean broke out into his own soft smile as he leaned against his baby boy's touch. He knew then that all he wanted to do was fully commit to Sam.

"Sammy, I-"

The sound of the door opening cut him off and made all the air leave his lungs. Time stopped moving in that very moment as their dad came into view, the smile John had on his face faded as he took in the sight in front of him. For a second Dean thought their dad was going to faint, and honestly, that would have been easier to deal with.

But no, it could never be that easy for them. Dean realized this as time started back again, grocery bags that he hadn't even realized were there slipped from their father's grip, a blind rage in his eyes that Dean had never seen before.

* * *

John had got done with his hunt sooner than expected. It'd been a long time since a simple salt and burn was just that: simple. The family that was being haunted thanked him profusely and even paid him in cash, which wasn't what normally happened but he sure wasn't going to say no. After that he sat in his truck not really knowing what to do and then it finally hit him.

It was Sammy's birthday! It'd been so long since he actually got to celebrate anything like that with his boys. It was still early in the day so he had time to get prepared. He was sure he had a stupid grin on his face the entire ride to Walmart. He couldn't help but feel happy because for once it felt like he was doing something right.

For years he missed out on birthdays and holidays and it all seemed worth it at the time, but the look on his son's faces every time he had to leave would break his heart. Obviously not enough to stay, but that day was different. At least they would have this one birthday and he'd get to see Sam smile, the real one with the dimples that was usually reserved for Dean.

Which was fair. For all intents and purposes, Dean raised Samuel. It was just a fact that John had came to accept. And it was his fault. No kid should have to raise another kid but that was exactly what happened. Still, not even that was enough to break John's smile. He walked through the aisles and got a movie, various snack options, as well as sodas and even a pack of beer. He was going to let Sam have his first full beer and everything was going to turn out good.

He held onto that thought as he made the half an hour drive back to the motel. He imagined their faces: shocked stares that would no doubt turn into wide grins, happy that their father was finally there. He knew he wouldn't get emotional, it just wasn't his way. He just hoped that this one night showed how much he actually cared.

He pulled into the parking lot of the motel, right beside the Impala. He smiled at _her_, Dean's Baby, and remembered the day he gave it to him. Dean had been beyond excited, thanking his father over and over again while running his fingers across the steering wheel. John shook his head and chuckled to himself as he got out and walked to the door.

For a split second, he thought about knocking. But then remembered he had his own key, so he let himself in, opening the door with his too wide grin, preparing himself to say_ 'happy birthday, Sammy!'_

But the words fizzled out of his mind once he looked up and saw.. Sammy, his little boy, underneath his brother.. both naked as the day they were born. The smell of sex and semen filled his nostrils and left him feeling sick. John blinked a few times, hoping to God that it was just some messed up nightmare or even a forced vision from a demon.

Sam's hands were on Dean's cheeks even though the older boy was looking straight at John, his green eyes wide. This wasn't a dream. That, whatever that was, was real. That single thought brought him back to reality as the bags slipped from his grip and onto the floor.

* * *

"Dad, I, wait-" Dean could barely get a word in before he was shoved off the bed and pushed against the wall. He couldn't even be embarrassed about the fact that he was naked, he could only think about how it was all over. The thing him and Sam had been building.. "Oh, god.." He looked at Sam then, who was already crying and trying to get off the bed.

"Don't move, Sam." Dad said without even looking in his direction. He kept his gaze fixed on Dean, anger and disgust in his eyes. "Don't look at him. Look at me. _Now_, boy." He ordered, his voice getting louder when Dean took too long to look away. Dean was crying too, head slumped against the wall in defeat.

"Christo."

They all just stared at each other then, because Dean wasn't possessed. He was just in love with his brother. And that was possibly worse.

For a split second Dean saw a sadness in the hazel of his father's eyes, but it soon turned into pure rage, similar to the one he had before. Dean squeezed his eyes shut as John struck him with his fist. His lip was busted and the taste of it filled his mouth. He barely had enough time to spit it out before he was hit again, that time on his temple.

His ears were ringing and he could vaguely hear the sound of Sam cursing and yelling, demanding their dad to stop. John didn't take orders from anyone, especially not his own son, so Dean wasn't surprised when he felt another blow to the same spot. He fell to his knees then, a naked, pathetic lump of flesh that couldn't even fight back.

He could only hear half of their arguing, his vision was spotty and blood was dripping from more places than one. He knew they were just small cuts and maybe a minor concussion. He was going to be okay.. but that was only physically.

"I'm not leaving with you, dad. I'm not leaving Dean! We love each other and there's nothing you can do that's gonna change that." Sam said, his voice clear and strong and suddenly he looked older, his slanted eyes burning with hatred. Somehow during Dean's momentary blackout, the sixteen year old pulled on a shirt and a clean pair of boxers. Dean tried to get up then, because if Sammy could be strong then he could, too, damnit!

He staggered over to the corner of the room where he left his clothes and put on his underwear so he wouldn't be exposed any longer. "What the hell-_stop!_" The sound of Sam's voice made his head snap up and there was no way Dean could have been prepared to see the other end of his dad's gun.

The man that raised him, the one that handed him six month old Sammy at just four years old, was holding a gun on him. Dean could see anger and regret in his eyes, his mouth set into a deep frown.

"Dad?"

The sound of the gunshot echoed throughout room and in that same instant, white hot pain shot through Dean's leg. "Shit!" The twenty year old shouted as he fell back against the wall. He looked down at his thigh and saw blood running down his leg. It wouldn't be fatal if he acted quickly, John knew that but that wasn't the point. _Son of a bitch.. He actually shot me! _Dean thought as he pressed down on the wound.

"Why did you do that?! Shit-okay, I'll go, I'll go! Just don't kill him!" Sam had begged before, Dean was used it, but that time was different. He was panicked and desperate and tugging at John's shaking body.

"Pack your bag, Samuel." Then dad's stare was back on his oldest, the pain that was unmistakably there masked by hardness. "Don't you dare follow us, Dean. I'll be back in two days." John said as he put his gun away. He stood there and watched Sam pack. John spared a few glances at Dean but the middle Winchester could only see the older man's stare from the corner of his eye, simply because he couldn't stop looking at Sam.

The boy looked so young and so scared, nothing like the growth he saw from that outburst, fully clothed and shaking as he stuffed his belongings in his duffel. The older brother watched as Sam snagged one of Dean's tee shirts, held it close for a few seconds before finally putting it away. He got the laptop last as well as its charger.

When Sam finally made eye contact with Dean, there was an apology there, but Dean didn't understand it. What did he have to be sorry for? It wasn't like he wasn't the one who shot him. He tried to call out for him but Sam just shook his head, a silent message that just meant _not now._

"Keep pressure on it, son." John sighed he turned away. He grabbed Sam by the arm and dragged him out. Dean watched them leave. He watched as John dragged his entire world away from him.

Dean listened as the truck pulled away, to the crunch of the gravel and then the silence. It was the silence that consumed him. It only meant Sammy was gone and it had to be all his fault. He fell into the fetal position and barely paid attention to the blood pooling around him. He could only picture Sam's face, how sad and broken it was.

He couldn't even hear the sounds of sirens in the background. He could only hear his own thoughts telling him that the look on Sam's face was all his fault. Not his dad's fault, just Dean's. If he had been stronger-

"Here he is! You still with us, sir?"

Dean blinked through his blurry vision and could see figures above him. He had no idea how long he'd been laying there, but it must have been long enough for police and paramedics to be called. He forced a nod and then he was grunting out in pain as he was put on a gurney.

He was light headed, blacking out every so often. He vaguely remembered one of the EMTs asking his name, and luckily he was lucid enough to give him the name on one of his matching fake IDs and Insurance cards. And then he was out again, Sam's face bouncing back and fourth to the beautiful tear stained boy to the broken sixteen year old.

* * *

John quickly dialed 911 as he started his truck and made sure someone was coming for Dean before he even pulled out of the parking lot. Sam didn't sob or scream like he'd done back in the room, just leaned against the window and let silent tears trail down his red cheeks. The only visible movement John could see was a breath of relief when he got help for Dean.

His stomach and heart clenched all at once. Sam looked distraught and Dean looked the exact same. They were both just completely and utterly broken and it just wasn't right. They weren't supposed to be that way. They're brothers, for Christ sake!

They're brothers and they're obviously in love and it's all John's fault.

He ran his hand over his face as he hit the gas, his knuckles bruised from the beating he gave Dean, passing each vehicle in his way. They were already in the next town, and he was determined to put as much distance between his sons as possible before he eventually had to stop. He had to fill the tank and make an important phone call.

"Thought you didn't want nothin' to do with me? That's what ya said last time anyhow." Bobby Singer had said as soon as he picked up the phone and realized who he was talking to. John sighed and leaned against the bed of the truck. He had said that. Their friendship sure was a complicated one.

"I know what I said, and I'm sorry. You know how heated I can get during a hunt." John sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. "I need help. It's about the boys." He could hear some scuffling from the other line, and he could already picture him sitting up straight in his chair.

"What about the boys? Are they okay?" The tone of Bobby's changed. It went from slightly annoyed to protective in less than a second, which only made sense considering Bobby helped raised them, too. John tried not to let the thought sting, reminding himself of why he was doing what he was doing in the first place. He let out a shaky breath and nodded to himself.

"No. They're not okay, Bobby. I can't get into it here. I just-" John took a moment to peek through the back window, and from there he could see Sam in the same position as before. Still looking just as broken. "I'm in North Carolina, right on the edge of Virginia. Do you think you could meet me half way?" He knew the answer before he even asked. He could hear more scuffling which John only assumed was the sound of Bobby getting prepared for a long drive.

* * *

Dean's red rimmed eyes snapped open and he was greeted with a too white room. It was cold and he was alone, and his first thought was _where's Sammy? _He thrashed and screamed because for some reason he was tied down. The room suddenly was too bright a nurse surrounded him, urging him to calm down.

He took in a deep breath and let his head fall back onto the pillow. "Where am I and why am I tied up?" He kept his eyes on the ceiling and not on the pretty nurse. It felt wrong looking at her, and he didn't understand why at first until her words finally sunk in. She gave him the name of the hospital he was in and explained that he was angry and lashing out on staff, asking for someone named Sammy. They had tie him down to assure he wouldn't harm himself and others.

And it was then that it all came flooding back. He and Sammy had their first time and it was amazing, and had finally came to the realization that he was ready to fully commit to his baby brother, but then their dad came and he.. he.. "Oh, fuck-" Dean gasped when the pain in his face and leg suddenly presented itself.

"I'll get you some pain meds, sweetie. Your father should be back up from the cafeteria soon." And then she was gone, leaving him alone for a few minutes to stew in his anxiety. His father was in the same building as him, after everything? And it also meant that two days had already passed, and he barely remembered any of it. He could see why as the nurse came back and pumped his IV with some pain killers. Not enough to knock him out, but enough to take the pain away.

She gave him the smile he knew too well. The flirty one that people liked to give him and it should have made him feel good, because he still had 'it' even beaten, but it just left a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. And she was really pretty, with dark brown skin, full lips and a curvy frame, exactly his type. Or one of them. He had many 'types.'

But she wasn't what he wanted. So he just turned his head and let her remove his restraints, and then she was gone. He stayed like that until the door opened again; flinching at the familiar sound of his father's boots.

He couldn't look at him either. Dean couldn't handle the disappointment that he knew would be there in his hazel eyes. The chair in the corner of the room screeched as John sat down and Dean could feel his eyes on him. He flinched again when the oldest Winchester called out his name and _fuck_, that made him feel even weaker.

"Yes, sir?" He fell back into solider mode because it was his best bet. He turned slightly until he was looking at the ceiling and could see his father from the corner of the eye that wasn't nearly swollen. John's face was hard; closed off.

"How's your leg?" John asked, his voice tight. Dean took in a shaky breath. "It's fine." The middle Winchester answered simply. He fisted the sheets and tried to keep his breathing at a normal rate. His father stayed silent for a long time and that was worse. Every slight movement made Dean's breath get caught in his throat and he knew John had to notice.

"Look at me, boy."

Dean did as he was told, turning his head until he was finally looking up at his father, who wasn't sitting anymore and was actually nearing him. Dean kept eye contact the entire time and tried his best to be still, but the moment his father's hand raised he winced, hard. John frowned at the sight, but continued the movement. Dean was more than surprised to feel it against his cheek, thumb gently smoothing over the bruises. He wasn't used to that kind of affection from John Winchester.

"I won't say I'm sorry, Dean. I can't." The older man's voice was unusually soft, and it wasn't exactly comforting, "A father should never have to see that."

Dean felt an overwhelming urge to beg for his dad's forgiveness, but that didn't feel right. What Sam and him were, it wasn't wrong. Not to Dean. Why should he have to apologize for it? Instead, he kept silent and listened as his father began to speak again.

"You were supposed to protect him. That was the one thing I trusted you with most of all. Do you remember that, Dean? When I put little Sammy in your arms?"

Dean nodded and blinked away tears. He'd never forget that night. Even at just four, every detail was ingrained into his memory.

"Then _why?_ You took advantage of Sam, your little brother! How could you do that to him, son?" John asked, something strange in his voice but Dean couldn't place it. He was too busy forcing down the bile in his throat, the implications making him sick.

"What? No, I, he-" Dean shook his head and tried his best to sit up some, "I could never hurt Sammy." That was the important thing his dad had to understand. He would never force Sam to do anything he didn't want to do.

"Really? You didn't notice how he was limping all the way out the door?" The soft tilt to his voice was dissipating and that along with the fact that no, Dean had not noticed that, made him choke out a sob.

"No, I guess you wouldn't have. You've been fooling yourself, Dean. All you've been doing is hurting him." John's eyes burned into Dean's like he just wanted him to get it, to fully understand the damage he caused. Dean shook his head, tried his best to block it out, but the image of thirteen year old Sammy with tear stained cheeks wouldn't go away.

_You took advantage of him while he was in vulnerable state of mind.. _

_Too young to understand.._

_You caused this.._

Dean broke then. He sobbed and pulled at his hair and John just watched, and if Dean hadn't been too worried about holding down his vomit, he would have noticed the oldest Winchester wiping away his own tears, murmuring his own apologizes.

* * *

Dean didn't talk much after that. He developed a hardness around him similar to John's. Which worked efficiently during hunts and even during long car rides. He tried not to think about Sam.

Which, never worked out. He was always there, slipping into the cracks of Dean's barriers. Dean ached for him when he was alone, so he just made sure that wasn't the case. He'd have someone beneath him most nights, mostly men with long hair and soft hazel eyes. It was as close as he was going to get, and if he took them from behind, it was easier to pretend.

His life turned into a whole lot of pretending.

Pretending that he was okay. Pretending that he didn't cry at night. Pretending that he wasn't weak for his little brother. And it had worked for the most part. It had been almost six months since the night it all ended, with zero contact with Sam. Dean was okay with that. they were better off that way.

Until one night he managed to check his email for any updates on his current hunt, his breath catching in his throat once he saw a familiar address.

_**Swinchester1983 : **_

_Dean, I don't know if you'll ever see this, but I just got to know you're okay. __I think about you every single day. Bobby won't let me talk to you. Dad's orders. Did he hurt you again? _

_I keep replaying that moment in my head. Him shooting you.. I wish I could have done more. I'm so sorry Dean._

_Anyway.. Bobby's making me go this stupid school and look at college applications and I know this is what I always talked about, what I always wanted, but it doesn't feel right without you. I always thought you'd be helping with this._

_I feel empty when you're not around, De. I need you like I need air to breathe. I know how cheesy that sounds, jerk, but I know you're feeling the same way. _

_Please respond. __I love you._

Dean read the message over and over again, and it was around the tenth time that he realized he was crying. "Fuck." He let out in a harsh breath, rubbing his wet cheeks with his jacket sleeve. There were so many things he wanted to say.

_'I love you, too, baby. More than Baby herself, more than anything in this entire world. I'm on the way to get you. We'll run away and never have to worry about dad again. Just you and me, Sammy.'_

That's what he wanted to say, what he literally almost typed out but stopped once he remembered his father's voice, his tone and the disappointment in his eyes. What they did.. it was wrong. And Dean had hurt Sam. Took advantage of him. He messed his little brother up when he was supposed to protect him.

And just from reading Sam's email, his life had changed, and it was actually normal. That was what Sam always wanted and he finally got that chance. If Dean came he'd just ruin everything like he was known to do.

So instead, he wrote back something small and definite.

_**Impala67 :**_

_It's over, Sam. Goodbye._

Dean disabled his email and chucked his shitty laptop against the motel wall. He'd be back at libraries for research for sure, but it really didn't matter to him. Everything he always wanted was gone and there was no hope in getting it back.

* * *

Months turn into years and suddenly Dean was thirty-nine staring at his reflection in a grimy motel bathroom. His eyes were red rimmed and he was too sober, feeling everything all at once with nothing to stop it. Dad was killed during a hunt a few years back, and Dean had no friends, had no Sammy to fall back on.

He was completely and utterly alone.

He'd been in this position a few times before, his gun in the sink in front of him. He'd grab it and press it to his temple, counting to ten before pressing lightly against the trigger. But he'd stop himself just before going through with it, and that usually left him on his knees vomiting the contents of his stomach, murmuring apologizes to the boy he once loved.

That night was different. It was nearing his birthday, just a couple more minutes to be exact. Dean was going to be forty and that meant he spent two decades without his brother, or it would be on Sam's birthday, but Dean didn't feel like waiting that long. He was tired of fighting the never ending guilt and shame.

He just wanted it all to go away.

_One_

Dean brought the gun to his temple and looked at his reflection.

_Two_

He let himself remember the day Sam gave him his amulet, the one he still had on that very moment. It was when he first realized he loved Sam more than a brother was supposed to.

_Three_

Their first kiss. He'd forgotten what state they were in when it happened. The only thing he could recall was tear stained cheeks and soft lips.

_Four_

Making love to Sam was the most beautiful moment in this entire existence. It was never supposed to happen but it did, and the feel of Sam's body beneath his haunted his dreams.

_Five_

His cell phone rang for the third time that night. He tried to ignore it.

_Six_

John took his Sammy away. Dean started to press against the trigger lightly, barely enough to add pressure.

_Seven_

The ringing wouldn't stop. His ringer was on, breaking through his concentration ever so slightly.

_Eight_

Sammy was better off without him. Dean checked up on him three years ago and his little brother was happily married and was a big time lawyer. Way better off.

_Nine_

_"I love you, De. More than anything." _ Dean let out a choked sob, loosening his grip slightly. The ringing was like knives to his ears.

_Ten_

Sam's face, older than he was back then, popped into Dean's brain. His cheeks were red and wet with tears just like that night, begging him to stop.

Dean dropped the gun back in the sink with a loud curse. He always was too weak to go through with it, but he knew he'd try again.

First though he decided to finally pick up the phone, just to stop the incessant ringing.

"Hello?" Dean answered, his tone sharp. A somewhat relieved sob came from the other end, with other noises there, similar to a baby crying in the background.

"Dean." it was Sammy's voice, just a little deeper. It made Dean's knees feel weak. It'd been so long since he heard that voice. Dean couldn't find his own.

"I know you-you probably don't want to hear from me. I just.. just had no one else-Shh, shh, Mary, it's okay-Dean? H-hello?" Sam stuttered and Dean had to take in a few deep breaths. There was definitely a baby over there with the same name as their mom. So many emotions ran through him at once as he tried his best to respond.

"Yeah. M'here." Dean listened as Sam tried his best to calm the baby. "Are.. are you okay, Sam?" He asked and he sure didn't miss the sob of a grown man that ripped through the other line.

"No.. We're not okay. I.. I need you, De."

At hearing those words, he immediately started packing. He felt more alive than he had in years, adrenaline pumping in his veins with that newfound purpose.

"Oh, and, uh.. happy birthday." Sam stammered and despite everything happening around them, Dean couldn't help but smile.

**End of Part One**


	2. Prologue: Part Two

**Disclaimer: I do not condone these acts. It is just a work of fiction. Also, this chapter contains ****self harm, ****heterosexual sex & pegging between Sam and an OC. **

Sam knew he was different. It was a fact that he became well aware of from the age he started kindergarten. He was the weird kid in town that no one knew and he never stayed long enough for anyone to think otherwise. He didn't know why they were on the road constantly, or why his dad was barely around. The only thing he really knew was Dean.

Dean was everything to Sam. He was always there for every scraped knee and every nightmare, with only a little bit of the brotherly annoyance. His hands were strong and also caring, taking care of Sam in ways that had no place to be a kid's responsibilty, but Dean did it all anyway.

It was no surprise to Sam when he realized just how in love he really was. It came with a twisty sick feeling in the pit of his tummy, but not because he was related to Dean. It was because he was so sure his brother would never feel the same. He just knew that deep down, he'd be stuck with that unrequited love for the rest of his life.

He fully recognized that it wasn't Dean's fault. Sam was just broken, and that had nothing to do with the older Winchester. So he tried his best to be normal. He talked a little more in school and managed to make a few friends here and there, and was still able to stay by Dean's side in a way he prayed only came off as brotherly.

Things had been fine like that for a while. Dean was still the perfect brother, no matter what stupid pranks he played. There was one Christmas though when Sam had almost had enough of it. His emotions were running high because puberty was a bitch and their dad left again; another Christmas spent alone and Sam tried to be okay with that because at least he had Dean.

He'd spent the little amount of money he had saved up on a gift for Dean. It was small but it was the first real gift he'd given anyone, and he knew that he probably hyped it up a little too much for himself. He didn't know exactly what he was expecting when Dean handed him his present, but he surely didn't expect to see a pink Barbie box and his big brother's grin.

Sam didn't know exactly that set him off. He just felt defeated, like no one was ever going to take him seriously. Hot tears welled up in his eyes and Dean's smile faded and was quickly replaced with a deep frown.

"Come on, Sammy, it was just a joke." Dean reached out to touch his eleven year old brother's shoulder, but Sam jumped away from the gesture and off the couch, Dean's present in a tight grip in his hand.

"Whatever. Here's your present. Merry freakin' Christmas." Sam muttered before throwing the messily wrapped package on Dean's lap. He turned away then and fell down on his own bed, curling in on himself as he finally let his tears fall.

Everything was just so.. stupid. Dad's job-whatever the hell that was-their life, his feelings for Dean, everything was just _stupid! _

It was in these moments he wished more than ever that he was normal. If their lives were normal their dad would be home and Dean's pranks wouldn't make Sam feel so twisted and hurt inside.

He stretched his hand beneath his pillow until his fingers grazed the spine of John's journal. He knew he'd be in trouble for taking it, but he felt as though it was the only thing that was going to give him insight into what his dad was doing.

Which was wrong. He read the journal inside and out and he was only left feeling more confused than he was before. The parts where John wrote about Mary, flames, and yellow eyes became the setting for most of Sam's nightmares.

He had a feeling, something deeply rooted inside of him, that it was somehow his fault.

"Sam." Dean's voice, softer than usual, cut through the boy's thoughts. Despite the tug in his chest, the younger Winchester snuggled into the pillow, effectively hiding his tear stained face from view.

"Don't be like that, Sammy." Dean's voice was closer, Sam could hear the old floor boards creek as he neared the bed, "I'm sorry for being a jerk." Dean sighed as he poked his little brother's shoulder.

Sam mumbled something along the lines of _screw you! _But it was muffled by the pillow and made the older brother chuckle.

"Don't make me have to do this, baby brother." Dean warned but Sam didn't budge, just gave a noncommittal grunt as he squeezed the sides of the lumpy pillow.

"Oh well.. you asked for it." And then Deans hands were on him, fingers digging into his sides as he tickled Sam mercilessly.

"De! Ah-ha-stop!" Sam gasped as he tried his best to stifle his giggles. Dean successfully turned Sam over but didn't stop, "Nope! Not until you say you forgive me." Dean's fingers reached Sam's armpits and it made the boy screech, his cheeks a deep red as their laughter filled the room.

"Fine! I forgive you, Dean, now stop-_please_!" Sam gasped out and Dean finally relented, his laughter almost mute against Sam's heavy breathing. He finally looked at Dean then, his eyes immediately landing on the amulet hanging low on his chest.

He smiled, wide and true, his fingers reaching out to wrap around it, thumb brushing over the texture of it. "Do you like it? It's supposed to protect you." Sam asked, his tone a little too soft even for his own ears. "I just thought it looked cool, so.."

Something in Dean's green eyes shifted as he looked down at Sam. He blinked slowly, his gaze falling to where his little brother's hands were beginning to trail up the string of the necklace.

"Yeah, Sammy. It's cool." Dean whispered with a nervous tilt to his voice that suddenly made Sam all too aware of his own body. Sam tore his hand away like he'd been burned, scooting back until he hit the headboard so he could use the covers to hide the boner that he didn't even realize he had. The haste in his actions pushed the journal from its place, the thunk against the hardwood took Dean's prying eyes away

Dean laid beside Sam that night and told him everything he knew about their dad's work-hunting-and explained that dad was gone all the time to keep them out of harms way. Sam didn't totally understand, nor did he agree with John's thought process, but it was the first time he ever felt like he was being taken seriously enough to get the truth.

"Thank you for telling me, De." Sam said sleepily. Dean just shook his head and just ruffled his fingers through Sam's hair.

"No problem, kiddo. Now go to sleep." And then Dean kissed Sam's forehead, the touch lingering for a second too long and Sam swore for a moment there Dean was sniffing his hair. But no, even if he was, there was no way he meant it the way Sam wanted.

And Sam was okay with that. He _had_ to be okay with that. And for the next two years, he was, or at least fooled himself into believing he was as he watched Dean mess around. Dean had no preference for gender, and didn't give a damn who knew about it, and sometimes that comforted Sam since he felt the same.

Other times it'd leave him seething in a hormonal rage because why couldn't that be _him_. Why couldn't that be Sam Dean had pressed up against the lockers or stowed away in the janitors closet? Thirteen year old Sam didn't know what to do with the jealousy.

And so he let himself sulk and stew with it most days, and he figured that was what led to the worst nightmare he had in awhile.

There was Dean, bleeding out, a hunt gone bad-and Sam just stood there, muddy shoes stuck to the grass as his big brother begged for his help. Monsters of every kind neared them, their father's corpse in their blooded claws. The only thing Sam could do was watch as everything he loved fell apart.

When he woke, he was already gasping and sobbing and the sound stirred his brother awake. "Sam, what's wrong?" Dean's voice somehow made everything a little better, but he needed more. He needed to be beside him, to feel him, to breathe him in.

"Nightmare?" Dean asked, his tone gruff with sleep. Sam grunted in response as he made his way through the dark motel room. He got under Dean's covers and the older boy pulled him in on instinct, soothing down sweat damp hair.

Sam laid his head on Dean's chest, listening to his heartbeat and steady breathing. "Dean?" Sam called out after awhile when he thought his brother had fallen asleep. He looked up at him and Dean was not asleep, oh no, he was staring at Sam deeply and intently.

"Beautiful." Dean said, his voice rough like he wasn't aware he said it out loud. It was then Sam noticed just how close they actually were. "De.." Sam trailed off, tone full of disbelief. _Yeah, Sammy, _and suddenly Dean's mouth was on his and Sam had no time to even think before he was kissing back, no room for question or hesitation because that was what he always wanted. Dean's calloused hands on his cheeks proved it wasn't a dream, that it was all real and he could have cried, he probably was, he was too happy to care either way.

Dean was his first kiss. He hadn't realized until that moment that he'd been waiting for his brother, for a moment he was sure was never going to come. But there they were, on a shitty motel bed with nothing but hands and mouths and little bit of tongue and it was everything he'd ever dreamed of.

He couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed about the whimper that left his throat as Dean pulled away. Sam's hands gripped at Dean's shirt so he couldn't get too far. "Not goin' anywhere, baby." Dean cooed as he pulled Sam in against his chest. "Go to sleep."

Sam had no doubt that he'd wake up alone, that Dean was just indulging him, that it didn't mean anything. He told himself he'd be okay with that, even if the thought left him cold and hollow. He fell asleep feeling safe and warm despite that and was more than surprised to still be feeling that way when morning came around.

They didn't talk about it. They just fell into a pattern of soft kisses and long nights of Dean holding him like they were actually boyfriends and Sam felt happier than he had his whole life.

Except for those nights when Dean would come home after leaving Sam alone for hours, smelling of sex, cheap perfume or cologne. It always left Sam feeling empty and sad and just confused.

Didn't Dean love him? Why did he need anyone else? Wasn't Sam enough?

Sam would stare at his reflection a lot during those times. Picking at each part of himself that made him unlovable. He was too young, too skinny, hair too long. He had moles everywhere and wished they were gone, or at least replaced with Dean's light and scattered freckles. Maybe then Dean wouldn't go out for something more.

He didn't understand it at the time, but he needed to hurt, to feel something other than the emptiness. His feelings were all twisted and wrong and the only thing that truly helped was Dean finally coming home to him-wherever home was at the time. Dean would wash off the smell of the others and take Sam into his arms, kissing him deeply, reminding Sammy just how much he loved him.

That made it all worth it to Sam. If he was the one Dean was coming home to, then it had to be worth it.

Things were better when dad was around, which Sam found as a surprise. It meant Dean had less time to mess around with others and was basically forced to spend time with Sam, which Dean used to his full advantage mostly. Especially when their relationship finally took a sexual turn.

This was it, Sam had thought, Dean was finally going to stay. If what he needed was sex, Sam was more than willing. And Dean liked it enough; falling apart every time Sam moaned his name or moaned around his cock, slick and wet in Sammy's mouth because that was as far as Dean would let it go. Dean took care of him in ways Sam was sure he'd never get with anyone else. He'd never need anyone else. And for awhile, Sam thought Dean was feeling the same way.

That was until one evening Sam had caught him in the act.

Dean had pushed Sam to go out and hang out with some friends from school. He needed the social interaction, Dean insisted. Fifteen year old Sam had listened and went out with two boys from his class. They were a little older since Sam was able to take senior classes, but not old enough to just down right refuse a nice night of video games.

Once again, Sam's judgement had been wrong. And what he was told was going to be a night filled with soda and Zelda, was instead a full blown party filled with alcohol and drugs and Sam tried his best to act cool about it. It's what Dean would do, anyhow. He had to be back home at a certain time and he hoped he wouldn't be late. Though it was Dean that urged him to go out, he hated the thought of disappointing him.

So Sam sat on a crowded couch, nursing a beer while one of the boys, Kyle was his name, made out with a cheerleader on his lap. She was pretty enough, her skin a dark brown and soft against his hand. Her knee kept brushing against the back of his hand, urging him to run it up her bare thigh. He made no effort to do such a thing.

"Come on, Sam. Natasha won't bite." Kyle whispered in his ear, his hot breath tickling Sam's ear. Sam tensed and gripped the warming bottle tighter. His teeth grazed at the lobe, "But I might," Kyle murmured and Natasha moaned, grinding down against Kyle's lap. Sam blushed a deep red, the pit of his stomach swirling with unwanted arousal and shame.

"Leave him alone, Kyle, Jesus." Said Miles, the other boy Sam was supposed to be hanging out with. He held out his hand and Sam took it gratefully. Miles was taller than him, body lined with muscle from years of football, his skin just a warm shade of brown; his hair was black, the top full of curls with a fade on the sides and-..._honestly, fuck this beer for making everyone more attractive than usual_, Sam thought with an internal groan.

Miles dragged Sam away into the corner, Natasha and Kyle's whining fading into the music. "You okay? Kyle can get a little frisky when he drinks." He explained and Sam could only nod. He really had to get away from everyone to clear his head.

"Where's the bathroom?" Sam asked a little too quickly and Miles tilted his head to the side, an amused smirk on his full lips. "Up the stairs and down the hall." He gave and Sam thanked him before turning and heading for the stairs. He prayed to himself that there was no poor teen vomiting their guts out so he could at least have five minutes alone.

_"Dean, oh god," _

The sound of his brother's name on someone else's lips left him frozen as soon as he reached the top of the stairs. That didn't have to mean anything, Sam rationalized. It wasn't like his brother was the only person named Dean.

That single thought kept him moving. He had faith in Dean. He wouldn't, not since-

_"You're so wet. Fuck."_

Suddenly Sam found himself supporting his weight against the wall, his legs no longer working like they were supposed to. That was definitely Dean's voice, so deep with arousal that it cut through the loud music from downstairs. Sam was standing directly beside the room the noise was coming from, his knees buckling as he forced himself to lean his head against the door.

_"Hurry, please," _The woman begged, and Sam could hear Dean chuckle and mumble something about a condom, the faint tear of foil then the sound of a bed creaking beneath them barely seconds later, and then Dean's groans mixed with her high pitched moans.

The all too familiar hollow feeling was back once again, this time it was paired with something else that Sam's brain couldn't exactly find a word for in that moment. He just felt stupid, like he should have expected it. There'd be no way he'd be enough for Dean.

_Too young, too skinny, too ugly, too-_

"Dude, you okay?"

Miles had his hand on Sam's shoulder, steading him from his position on the stairs. "You almost fell, man. How much did you drink?" He asked jokingly, but there was concern there etched his furrowed brows. Sam let out a shaky laugh. He hadn't really drank that much, just barely two and a half beers. He was mostly sober but he had no idea how he even made it back to the stairs in the first place.

"I think I.. I think I need to go home. Do you mind?" Sam asked, his mind still reeling from what he'd just heard to worry about how politely he asked. Miles nodded in understanding and helped Sam down the rest of the way. He didn't need to, and maybe Sam should have told him that, but it felt nice leaning against his muscled frame. He couldn't find it in him to give a shit about the guilty feeling in his chest.

A cool night breeze blew right through them as soon as they made it outside and Sam couldn't help but shiver. It only made Miles hold him tighter. Sam forced himself not to feel even more guilty about being disappointed about the loss of warmth when the older boy let go so they could get into his car.

It was a nice car. Brand new with a CD player instead of cassette, something he wasn't used to. Still even had the fabled 'new car' smell. Nice leather interior, working heat. It was nice.

It was nice, and still, he couldn't stop wishing he was in the Impala.

With Dean.

"It was more than the drinks, huh?" Miles asked out of the blue, sending Sam out of his thoughts. Sam looked up at the seventeen year old and pursed his lips. They were at a red light and Miles was looking straight at him.

"What do you mean?" Sam knew exactly what he meant. He figured playing dumb was his best bet. He'd make up an excuse and keep all his twisted up feelings inside.

"Something must've happened to get you like that. Do you.. want to talk about it?"

Sam worked up an excuse in his head and it was on the tip of his tongue, ready to go, but what he said instead.. was completely unexpected.

"My boyfriend of almost three years is cheating on me." Sam let out in a heavy breath. It felt odd to say it out loud like that. It was true, he supposed, even if they didn't have a label. It should have been obvious what they were, even without society's stupid labels and terms.

He guessed Dean just didn't feel the same.

"I've known him my whole life. Loved him for that long, too." Sam pinched at his wrist, a habit he started a few months back when he was anxious, and he was extremely anxious right then as the car started moving again.

"He says he loves me too. But then he goes and.. it's not the first time that he's done this, but I thought he was done with all that.." Sam said with a dry laugh, "I guess not." Sam leaned back and let his head fall against the headrest, silent tears falling past his cheeks. He didn't make any effort to brush them away.

Miles cursed softly under his breath and shook his head. "I'm sorry, man.." His brown eyes trailed down Sam's arm and to his fingers that was still pinching at his pale skin. Sam forced himself to stop and pulled his jacket sleeve down.

"Do you want some ice cream?" Miles asked and he grinned when Sam gave him an incredulous look. "It's always helped me. And.. I'd just hate to see a nice kid like you go home sad like this. Let me cheer you up?" Miles had a hopeful gleam in his eyes and Sam bit his lip, staring at the stop sign as the car came to another stop.

If Miles took that right turn, Sam would be back at that trailer on the outskirts of town, sulking in bed, cold and alone. But if he took the left turn.. Sam wouldn't have to be alone. He could be normal for a few hours.

If Dean can.. well.

So can Sam.

"Yeah.." Sam murmured softly, "Yeah," He repeated with more urgency in his voice, "Let's do it."

Miles took him to a twenty-four hour diner and Sam tried his best to not think about how much that place reminded him of Dean. Miles wasn't Dean. Miles was the guy buying him an ice cream sundae with extra whip cream, cracking jokes in an attempt to make Sam smile and it was great.

He'd lost track of time. He was too busy trying to forget, too busy laughing with someone that wasn't his brother. And that should have been okay. It should have made him feel better. It should have been a good thing when Miles leaned in close, his fingers brushing against the small bruises on Sam's wrist.

He should have been able to let go and be like Dean. If the older Winchester was able to go and be with whoever he wanted, then Sam should be able to do the same. In theory, that made sense. But as Miles' unfamiliar body heat covered his side, his big hand cradling Sam's cheek gently, Sam knew he couldn't do it.

"I can't." Sam breathed. Miles just gave a sad smile and nodded before finally pulling away.

The ride back to the trailer was silent and Sam was back to pinching his other wrist as he tried his best to calm his breathing. Miles was still so kind; he didn't force anything or even ask Sam to talk, just gave the younger boy a nice smile, and said he'd see Sam at school the next Monday. He didn't need to know that Sam would be long gone by then.

Dean was awake and waiting for him in the living room. As soon as Sam walked through the door, Dean hopped up from his position on the couch and bombarded the fifteen year old with questions.

"Where were you? Do you realize what time it is? You can't do that to me, Sammy, I was so worried-"

Sam threw his jacket off before pulling his brother down into a hard, desperate kiss. It actually left Dean speechless and frozen for a few seconds, but soon enough he was kissing back with just as much hunger and need.

Dean moaned in surprise when Sam pushed him up against the closest wall, their lips disconnecting so the younger boy could fall to his knees. There was no hesitation in his movements. Dean's sweat pants were around his ankles in seconds and Dean was fully hard for him and that fact alone calmed Sam's nerves, if only slightly.

"Sammy.." Dean breathed as his little brother nuzzled his cock. He smelled like soap. He'd already washed her away. She was gone and there was only Sam and Dean. No one else.

Sam let himself wonder if the others made him feel like this; already panting and sweating before anything was actually happening. If they could make him so close to orgasm with just their eyes. Sam relished in the affect he had on Dean as he finally took his length into his mouth. He took his big brother's hand and put it in his hair, a signal to take control.

Dean groaned, a deep, guttural noise as he fucked into Sam's willing mouth, gripping hard onto his baby brother's hair. "Yeah, baby, fuck," Dean's words and sounds went straight to Sam's dick, but he held on to what little self control he had left and kept eye contact with Dean. His brother was close, he could feel it in the way Dean's member would pulsate against his tongue.

"Almost there," Dean rasped, confirming Sam's assumption. Drool trickled down his chin each time Dean hit the back of the boy's throat, "So fuckin' pretty like this," and then Dean came with his baby brother's name on his lips-"_Sam!"-_and that was simply beautiful.

It was exactly how it was supposed to be.

Sam came to the conclusion as Dean lifted him up and took him to their room, lips and tongues tangled together, that no matter how much Dean messed around; no matter how worthless it made Sam feel.. He wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Sam knew in that moment as Dean's hand wrapped around his length, that no one would ever make him feel that good, that crazy, that in love. Dean was his, even as he said _no_ when Sam begged, "Please, De, please just fuck me," Dean shushed him by taking the younger boy's cock in his mouth, and even though Sam gave in and came with a shout, he knew he would ask again.

That moment finally did come when Dean finally gave in. It was in North Carolina, on Sam's sixteenth birthday, and the older brother had just given Sam the coolest present ever. Sam was happy and content in Dean's lap, kissing him sweetly and Dean's hands were running up and down the younger boy's back soothingly.

Sam knew he could have just left it like that and it would have been fine. But the familiar need stirred up in him and he felt the need to bring up a point to Dean, that he was finally the age of consent in the state they were in. Dean's response was expected.

_We're brothers. Still illegal._

Sam didn't give a shit. He wanted Dean in every way possible. He needed Dean to see that he could have Sam the same way he had all those other people. Sam made sure to tuck those thoughts away. There was only him and Dean there in that moment. No one else.

For a second, it seemed as though Dean finally relented, as he ordered Sam to get naked. Sam laid down on his back, watched as Dean's eyes drank him in and Sam shivered with excitement, which was quickly brought to a halt when Dean assured him that they wouldn't be going all the way. Sam pouted, but still listened when his big brother asked him to get on his hands and knees, curious as to what Dean would do.

He flushed with embarrassment and pure arousal as Dean kneaded into the flesh of his ass, pulling his cheeks apart and moaning when he saw Sammy's hole. And then suddenly there was his tongue, and oh _shit_-Sam had never felt like that before. He moaned and whined, rutting against the muscle because he needed more.

It went on like that for a while before he finally opened his eyes and saw Dean's fingers. _Suck_, Dean had said, and Sam wasted no time before he took the digits into his mouth. He made sure to form extra saliva in his mouth, Dean's fingers a wet and sloppy mess when he got them back.

More words of assurance from his brother, telling Sam to let Dean know if it hurt, and all Sam wanted him to do was get on with it. He needed _something._

And when he did finally get that something, he moaned out in sweet relief. It hurt, but it was perfect. He needed more. He noticed that when he did get more, it hurt less and less, and turned into something that was more than pleasure, especially when his brother's fingers hit that special spot inside of him.

Dean gave him permission to come and that was it. It only took a few tugs to his cock and he was gone, spasming and screaming his brother's name until he was just shaking mess on the mattress.

Sam could vaguely hear the sound of Dean taking his pants off, and then there was something about how he wasn't gonna stick it in, he just needed something, and Sam knew exactly what that thing was. And he could hear how weak Dean was in that moment as his hard cock brushed against his spit-slick entrance.

Sam knew then that he was gonna get exactly what he wanted.

"Don't have condoms.." It was a weak excuse and Dean had to know that.

"You don't need them with me, Dean. You're my first and I know you use condoms when you.. you know.." Sam couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. He knew Dean could hear the jealousy and the hurt in his voice as he apologized, assuring Sam that he was the only one he'd ever want. And even though Sam knew in his heart that it was true, he also knew that he'd have to use this to his advantage.

_Prove it, _Sam had said, and then he was on his side with Dean behind him. He lathered Dean's palm with his spit and told Dean that it was okay he didn't have lube. Sam had been waiting for it for too long, to finally have Dean like the others were able to.

Dean's cock hurt worse than his fingers, unsurprisingly. The younger Winchester forced himself relax so his brother could ease his way in all the way and then ceased his movements once he reached the hilt. Sam let out a shutter of a breath as he relished in the feeling of being filled. He was so full with Dean's length and it was so painfully good.

The teen hadn't fully realized he was crying until his brother asked, his voice frantic, _Are you hurt?_ Sam let out a soft sob as he pushed back against Dean, "I'm good, Dean. So good. I know I'm cryin' like a baby right now, but please don't stop. I've just wanted this for so long.. had to watch you with other people.. thought I wasn't enough." Sam admitted as he tried his best to wipe away the tears, but he ended up stilling completely when Dean started moving his hips.

"You are enough." Dean's tone made Sam gasp, and he gripped at his brother's arms as soon as they wrapped around his waist. "M'just stupid. Have everything I need right here." Just as those words left Dean's lips, the head of his cock brushed against Sam's prostate, making the teen fall back against Dean's shoulder, and then Dean's hand was around his cock; Sam had no doubt he was going to break. But before the end came, he needed more.

Dean gave him what he wanted. He had Sam back on all fours, fucking into him at an almost too rough pace but Sam loved it. It was sort of painful, but that was good. His eyes started to roll back as Dean hit the bundle of nerves inside him over and over again.

Positions changed once again and Sam found himself on his back with his knees to his chest, his fingers in a tight grip Dean's amulet as his brother pounded into him lovingly, their kiss heated and desperate as they came, and Sam could tell from the look in Dean's eyes that he'd finally get what he always wanted.

But just as those pretty words were about to spill from Dean's lips, everything crashed around them. Everything they'd built over the years collapsed as their father appeared and tore them apart.

* * *

Bobby had no idea what he was getting into when he picked Sam up in Illinois. That wasn't the same boy he helped raise. The teen looked cold and dejected and it didn't help that he had no clue what was going on. John kept his eye on the boy as he grabbed his bag and walked-wobbled?-into the back of Bobby's car.

"What in the hell happened?" Bobby asked once Sam was out of earshot. John rubbed a hand over his mouth and shook his head, like he couldn't get the words out. Bobby looked into the truck and Dean was nowhere in sight, and neither was the Impala.

"Where's Dean?" Bobby's gaze was entirely fixed on John. He'd never seen the hunter look so uneasy, and they'd seen a lot of trouble in their time. Ice filled Bobby's veins as the possibilities scattered through his brain.

Was Dean hurt? Or worse? Was that why Sam was upset?

"Where is he, John?" He repeated, his voice tight with urgency. John leaned against his truck and adverted his gaze from the older man. Bobby waited for the man to open his mouth, to finally get the gist of what was going on.

John finally turned to face him, face red with anger and shame. "I saw them together."

Those words didn't make any sense. John must have seen Bobby's confusion as he let out a frustrated noise.

"Don't make me go into any more detail than I have to." He rubbed at his eyes, like he was trying to rub an image out of his brain. A sick feeling sat in the pit of Bobby's stomach that quickly reached his throat as he finally came to somewhat of an understanding.

"Sam and Dean.. together?" Bobby suppressed the urge to gag as he watched John nod. He spared a glance at Sam, who was just sitting in the back of his rusty two-door, face pressed against the window.

"S'why I need your help. I can't.." John let out a drawn out sigh, "I can deal with Dean." Bobby knew exactly what John was talking about. Dean always obeyed, always listened. Sam, on the other hand, was just.. different. He figured he understood why it was easier for John to deal with the situation that way. It didn't make it any less awful, however. The whole situation just seemed.. wrong.

He could see it in John's eyes. The other hunter was tired. Bobby didn't need to ask how long John wanted him to keep Sam. He already knew the answer.

* * *

Sam's next shower was in a nicer than average hotel in Wisconsin. Bobby always spoiled them that way, whenever they were on the road with him, which wasn't that often. But Sam couldn't bring himself to think about those happy little memories as flashes of Dean getting shot by their father repeated in his head. He prayed Dean was okay.

He winced as he washed his sore hole. It had been that way the entire time. From the sex with Dean and then the hours sitting in cramped vehicles, it was slightly swollen. He gently washed away long dried come and blood. There wasn't that much, so there most likely wasn't a tear. He sure wasn't going to bring it up to Bobby either way.

Sam didn't care how painful it was. It was amazing. It was with Dean, the love of his life, and he wouldn't trade it for the world. If Dean had saw the damage, though.. it would probably be the last time they'd ever have sex. Sam hoped by the next time they saw each other, he'd be healed up. He hoped it would be soon. He missed Dean. He didn't know how to function without him.

Sam got out of the shower after awhile, and then he put on some basketball shorts and Dean's tee shirt. Bobby was sitting in the corner of the room, reading a book. Sam could feel his eyes on him though once he was turned around and leafed through his bag. His fingers grazed over his laptop and he could hardly wait for the next time he got internet connection so he could email Dean and see if he was okay.

There was no way to do that in the hotel, however. He wasn't sure Dean could respond anyhow. His only other option was to talk to Bobby, and nope, Sam was not ready for that. So he settled with just laying down and getting under the warm comforter. He willed the bad thoughts away and let exhaustion take over.

* * *

Bobby didn't know how to feel about everything. He settled with just not talking about it, or even thinking about it. Instead, he just took Sam into his home without using fear or judgement. Sam still wouldn't talk much besides the usual yes sir/no sir_. _Bobby guessed the boy wasn't ready to talk about it, either.

After foraging the proper paperwork, Bobby was officially Sam's guardian. Then he got the teen enrolled in the local high school there in Sioux Falls, and while Sam was not thrilled, he didn't complain. He went to school, did his homework, and kept his straight A's without muttering a word about his brother.

That lasted almost two months, three days, and nearly ten hours. Bobby had actually counted. He was dreading the day when Sam would come up to him and finally bring up what happened. Bobby was not prepared at all when Sam came home and threw his bag down onto the table.

"I want to talk to Dean."

Bobby had actually choked on his water. When he finally calmed down, he looked up at the boy, his face lined with a seriousness that should never been on a teenager. Bobby wiped a hand over his mouth and sighed.

"You told the school that I wasn't allowed internet access." It wasn't a question, it was just a fact. Bobby had done that. It wasn't his proudest moment, going along with John's plan to tear the brothers apart, but the realistic part of him knew it had to be done.

"I did." Bobby sighed as he straightened himself up in his seat. "It's better off this way." He added lightly, and instantly he could see a change in Sam's face. Anger and hurt swirled in those hazel eyes.

"How is this better? He.. He's everything to me, Bobby." And the older man almost broke then. Sam had his puppy dog eyes on and it tugged at Bobby's heart but he shook his head, pushing those feelings away. What Dean did to Sam was wrong. Sam was too young, and there was no telling how old he was when the whole thing started and Bobby didn't _want_ to know. He didn't want to think that way about Dean, it truly didn't sit right with him, but it was the only thing that made sense.

"I know it's hard, Sam. But I'm only doing what's best-"

Sam cut him off with a scoff. "You're not doing what's_ best. _You're just doing what dad's telling you to do! Can't you see that Dean's not the monster here? He loves me, and I love him, and I need to talk to him, Bobby! I need to know if he's okay. Please." He pleaded, tears welling up in his eyes and Bobby couldn't take anymore. He got up from his seat and set his glass down in the sink.

"Under no circumstances are you allowed to contact your brother. You will get here as soon as school lets out, no detours, unless approved by me. While you're at school, you will be monitored, so don't you dare think you'll be able to be sneaky and use a friend's phone. When you do your homework using your computer, you will do it right here at the table so I can watch you. And that's not up for debate."

Bobby said it all in a rush but his voice was stern and laced with warning. Sam, surprisingly, said nothing in return. Just wiped his tear stained cheeks and grabbed his bag before turning for the stairs.

"I'll call you soon for dinner." Bobby called out, his voice echoing throughout the old house.

Sam didn't reply.

* * *

The phrase "high school sucks" would be a complete understatement for Sam Winchester. It got around that he was under constant watch by the school staff, and the rumors and the name calling started from there. Freak was the main one, which he was already used to. There were a few rumors going around about him being mentally unstable, or that he was a potential school shooter.

Needless to say, he didn't have friends. It didn't help he was at the top of his class, with more senior classes than any other sophomore. He was officially a social pariah.

Which would have been okay if he had Dean.

But, he didn't. And so he leveled up from pinching himself to leaving shallow cuts along his thighs and low on his hips where no one would see. It was the only thing that would calm him, the only thing that took his mind off of everything else. The only thing that kept him somewhat sane as he tried to keep up his act for Bobby.

He never asked again to talk to Dean. He followed Bobby's rules and things worked pretty smoothly. At the same time, Bobby was getting a little too comfortable with Sam's newfound obedience. He was six months into not talking to Dean and even breathing was hard. He had a small fear that was slowly growing, that would creep into his mind that Dean wasn't going to come for him. But there had to be a good reason why he hadn't heard from Dean. Maybe Bobby and John were hiding all the evidence, or maybe John had Dean in a similar situation. Sam wasn't sure. The only thing he really knew for sure was that it was time to get what he wanted.

He let Bobby know that morning that he'd be coming home an hour or two late; debate club had a meeting after school, and without a shadow of doubt, Bobby approved. He knew there was a big possibility of the old hunter finding out, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

When school let out, he walked to the local library, and then proceeded to get his own library card so he could get on the computers. He made sure to get on the one near a dark corner, where he was mostly hidden from prying eyes, and began to quickly compile an email for his brother. He prayed Dean's email address was the same as before as he poured his heart out into the small text box.

His heart pounded in his chest as he hit send. He could feel his blood pumping in his ears as he deleted the evidence and made his way out into the small town of Sioux Falls. He made sure to calm himself during the long walk back to Bobby's. He didn't want to raise suspicions, but he was excited and nervous and just scared.

Sam knew he wouldn't get a reply that same day. He didn't know for sure if he'd get a reply at all. And that.. that thought alone was what caused him to create a discreet cut just below his hipbone as soon as he got back to Bobby's.

He really needed to stop. Dean would be so angry with him if he saw what he was doing.

But that was kind of the point. Dean wasn't there. So for the time being.. it was just going to have to be his coping mechanism. Dean was just gonna have to understand.

* * *

Bobby truly thought things with Sam were getting better. The boy was on the road to graduating early. He was already looking through college applications, Stanford in particular. Bobby was more than proud of Sam. So he'd admit that he got too comfortable. He didn't watch Sam as much as he did months prior.

Which was why he didn't notice all the color drain from Sam's face one evening as he was supposed to be doing his homework. Bobby was leafing through an old book on witches when Sam had gotten up from his usual seat, his paperwork falling off the table with him.

"Sam?" Bobby called out as he watched the teen run for the stairs. A cold, prickling sensation washed over the older man as something in him told him to look at Sam's computer, and though that felt wrong, he did it anyway.

_It's over, Sam. Goodbye._

Bobby could tell right away by looking at the email address that it was from Dean.

"God damnit.." He sighed as he shut the laptop. He made his way up the stairs, and immediately noticed how quiet everything was. That brought the cold feeling back in an instant as he went to Sam's room.

The door was wide open, as it usually was during the day. And Sam was no where in sight.

Bobby turned towards the hall and saw the light peeking through the crack at the bottom of the bathroom door. His hands started to shake once he reached wood of the door to knock, "Sam?" He could hear Sam let out a shocked yell, and then a curse, and then Bobby busted in, all the air leaving his lungs at the scene before him.

* * *

Sam hadn't meant to cut so deep. It was like his mind was running a million miles per second, bad thoughts pouring into his brain, telling him that it was really over. Dean didn't love him anymore.

He took his razor from its hiding spot and went directly for his left forearm, where it was clear of any scars and just started slicing near the bottom. It was dumb but _fuck_, it helped, he didn't even care anymore about getting caught or even stopping.

But it hadn't been his intention to cut too close to the wrong spot. Bobby's knock frightened him and made him jump and suddenly he was bleeding a lot-too much. The hunter busted in and quickly went to work to stop the bleeding but there was so much and Sam's vision was starting to blur.

"Didn't.. mean to.." Sam slurred as Bobby cursed and rushed back downstairs to most likely call 911. Sam fell back against the bathroom sink and let his eyes drift shut, images of him and Dean and everyone else that got in the way and suddenly, he found himself not really caring if he woke up or not.

* * *

"He's gonna be okay, Bobby. I know it." Sheriff Jody assured him, her small hand resting on the man's shoulder. The hospital waiting area was unusually empty. Just him and Jody, who refused to leave his side. He gave her a small smile and a nod, not entirely meeting her gaze but she knew that was just as much as he was able to give right then.

They'd been waiting for hours, with no update whatsoever. He knew that Sam would pull through though. He'd called for help fast enough. But still.. he wanted to hold the boy and tell him how sorry he was for taking his brother away.

And yet, he couldn't bring himself to do that either. For all intents and purposes, Dean molested his little brother. And as much as it hurt to think about, that was just something Bobby forced himself to accept. It affected Sam so much that he.. he hurt himself. Dean caused that. It was so wrong and Bobby's heart hurt; he loved Dean like he would his own son, for God's sake.

But he also loved Sam, and Sam was the one sitting in the hospital because he'd cut himself. His brain had been so warped about his big brother that Sam pushed himself right to the edge of insanity.

Bobby had no idea to deal with that.

Which was why he made the hard decision to admit Sam into a mental hospital, so he could get the help Bobby really thought Sam needed. He'd tried not to let the image of Sam's crying face, begging him to let him go back home with him-_so sorry, Bobby, please don't leave me, I won't do it again!_-..Bobby tried not to let it change his mind.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I really am. But it's for the best. It's just for a few weeks, I promise." Bobby assured the sobbing teen before finally turning away.

* * *

_It's for the best. _

_It's better this way._

Sam was getting tired of hearing those things. It was all bullshit. Nothing John or Bobby had done was in his best interest. All they did was take his world away. And his world, Dean, didn't want him anymore. Sam didn't know exactly who to blame anymore, whether it'd be his dad or Bobby, or even himself. All he really knew was that he was completely alone.

All he had was a small room inside a mental hospital. Four white walls, a cheap twin bed, and a crappy little desk to do his homework. During the day he was forced out of the room and into the common room, where he'd see other kids worse off than he ever was.

For the first week, he sat alone. He didn't really care about the TV or the video games, or even the ping pong table or the snacks. Sam didn't want any of that. He wanted Dean. He wanted Dean's arms around him, kissing him nice and slow like he used to before Sam ruined everything by begging to take the next step.

If Sam had just left it alone, if he had just settled with Dean saying no, then they wouldn't have been caught. They wouldn't have been separated. Dean wouldn't have ended things. And Sam wouldn't have ended up in that place that seemed to suck out all of his energy.

The medicine they gave him daily kept his brain just barely functioning to make it all seem okay at least. And maybe he'd feel better if he actually tried to eat and play with the other kids, but he didn't have the energy. He just felt numb.

The sound of metal scrapping against the tiled floor brought him out of his thoughts and forced him to look up at the shaking girl at the other end of the table. She was biting back tears, eyes trained on a group of laughing boys across the room.

Something about her tugged at Sam's heart. He never liked seeing people sad. He supposed that was what caused him to actually talk to her, to ask her what was wrong. That simple question made a tear fall. She wiped it away quickly and made a sound that was probably supposed to be a scoff but sounded too much like a sob.

"Just the usual group of rednecks. Nothing I'm not used to." The girl ran her fingers through her dark hair and sighed, and Sam couldn't help the lump in his throat as another tear fell from her brown eyes. He looked up at the boys and watched as they joked and laughed about horrid things. Sam hadn't been paying attention, hadn't heard anything but his own thoughts about Dean.

"What did they say?" Sam asked, a flame flickering in his veins, his fists itching to collide with their faces. Maybe that wasn't the way to go about it, but Sam knew it was going to feel good. She eyed Sam cautiously before answering, but shrugged to herself after awhile when it seemed like Sam seemed trustworthy.

"It's usually just 'wetback' or 'beaner', but they've gotten more creative lately, calling me a BMW. Which unsurprisingly means _big Mexican woman_. That I can still handle, you know? Me being fat is just a fact, not an insult." She explained and Sam nodded, cheeks already turning red with rage at the sound of the racial slurs.

"But somehow it got around that my parents got deported. Guess they got my file somehow, or maybe an orderly was just chatty, I don't really know. But that.. " She sucked in a sharp breath in attempt to force back a sob. "Anyway.. There's not much I can do about it. The whole system is fucked."

Sam figured she probably had a point about the last part. Which was what solidified his resolve, what made him get up from his seat despite her urging him to sit down. Sam used the combat skills he learned from training with Dean and his father and took out all three. Yeah, maybe he had an unfair advantage, but he really couldn't find it in him to give a damn. It was all a blur of fists and kicks and even a chair at one point, and fuck, that felt good. The sting in his knuckles burned beautifully.

By the time he was done, the boys were crying and bleeding just a tiny bit and he was being pulled back by two orderlies. The girl was standing by the door, eyes wide as she watched Sam being escorted out. Sam was sure he saw a slight smirk playing on her full lips and despite everything in him begging him not to think about it, that felt good too.

* * *

The girl's name was Carina Garcia and she quickly became Sam's only friend. She appreciated Sam's efforts, maybe a little too much, her grin slightly feral when she talked about how awesome it was when Sam hit that one guy with a chair.

And maybe Sam ate it all up. Maybe he enjoyed having someone praise him like that. Dean was usually who got fussed over like that. Sam was always just the little brother, the one who had to be kept out of trouble when possible.

_Don't think about him._

This was the constant mantra he had in his head whenever he was around her. It made it easier to think, to speak. He didn't need to feel guilty when Dean wasn't there. Sam had tried to call him the day after the fight, completely misusing his phone privileges but he didn't care. Every number he called of Dean's had been disconnected, and that had to mean he was truly done.

Sam told himself that he was okay with that. And he was, when he was with Carina. Because during that short time he was pushing his brother from his mind, for _once_ he only thought about himself.

He thought about Carina a lot too. It was a nice distraction from everything else going on in his head. He enjoyed sitting with her at meal times and the hour in the common room. They talked about anything and everything and it felt good and.. safe. Better than his actual therapist, because he could actually be honest with her. Or something close to it.

She had been honest first. She rolled up her sleeves and pointed at each scar with a slight frown, and Sam felt less alone. She quietly explained that after her parents got deported, she had been put into foster care. Some families were nice.. and some just weren't. In not so many words she explained that one foster father had sexually abused her on multiple occasions, and no one ever believed her. The cutting was the only thing that made her feel better.

Sam's stomach clenched at her story, and his hand quickly found hers before he could stop himself. She smiled gratefully and wiped a stray tear. She said something then about Sam being like her, that she could tell when someone else had been abused like she had been.

All he could do was blink down at her because he had no words. He didn't want to say that he disagreed. He didn't feel like explaining how what he had with Dean was different. He didn't want to think about it. And so they didn't talk about it. They just sat there in silence until the hour was up, and then he was alone again with nothing but four walls, forcing himself to keep his brother out of his mind.

* * *

One night during his third week there was a movie night, and Carina sat close beside Sam in the dark room and Sam forced every bad thought away as he wrapped an arm around her soft form. She was so short and fit nicely against his side.

His heart pounded in his chest. He'd never touched someone other than Dean like that.

_Don't think about him._

Her fingers ghosted along his scar, and he let her. He let her trail her hand all the way down until it met with his own and through the dim light he could see the size difference, could see how small her hand was against his and that felt odd. Though in the recent years he had been starting to outgrow Dean, he was still used to being the smaller one.

Being there with Carina was so different. It felt wrong somehow. And it wasn't her fault. She was beautiful; smooth dark skin, black hair so long it reached her bottom, and her curves were literally insane-but it felt off. Sam shook his head and pushed those nagging thoughts away.

_Dean's gone. Can't worry about him anymore. Stop thinking about him._

Sam wrapped his hand around hers and she let out a small giggle. The sound soothed his nerves and made it just that much easier to forget. And as she lifted up slightly, her face just inches away from his, he couldn't bring himself to flinch away.

Her lips against his were nothing like.. what he was used to. They were softer and she was just soft everywhere. Her free hand suddenly found its way against his cheek and suddenly he was kissing back, taking the lead in a way he never had before. There was a whisper there in the back of his mind, telling him how wrong that was, that she wasn't.. what he was used to. But it was easy to ignore.

It was almost too easy to slip away. It was like no one was even paying attention to their patients, and Sam found himself to be okay with that. They snuck down the dimly lit halls, hand in hand, and Sam's heart was nearly out of his chest as they made it to his room.

Neither of them made a move to cut on the too bright light. They only relied on the light from the setting sun shinning though the window as they stripped, until they were just naked bodies and hands and lips and-..Sam's brain could barely wrap his head around it all.

Her curves were soft in his hands, her moans breathy and quiet and nothing like he'd ever heard before. It was new and scary but that was okay. Her lips on his kept him steady as they moved to the too small bed, and suddenly Carina was on her back with Sam on top and she was so close, so warm, skin flushed with heat and so beautiful with all her hair over his pillows but it was still so wrong.

_Not Dean. Not Dean. Wrong—_

**_-Stop! _**_Can't think about him._

"Hey, _Cariño, _look at me. It's okay." Her hands cradled his face then, gently urging him to make eye contact, "We don't have to." She added, her smile sweet and full of understanding. Sam blinked back tears as he shook his head. He was tired of not living his life because of..-

..He just wasn't going to let it happen this time.

Sam kissed her deeply as his fingers worked her already slick entrance open, and though he had no clue what he was really doing, she seemed to be enjoying herself. "More, _Cariño, _more" She moaned, and it was only then did his clouded mind realize that he didn't even have a condom.

"I.. I don't have.." He stammered and she just moaned as his fingers curled on their own accord, "I do. It's in my pants pocket." She breathed and Sam nodded as he retrieved it, stumbling slightly as he made his way back to her. She ran her hands along her spread out body, watching sensually as Sam rolled it down his admittedly thick length.

Panic filled Sam as he tried to align himself, hands shaking once he felt he was taking too long. Her small hands found his and gently guided him to where his cock desperately needed to be. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he sheathed himself inside, her walls impossibly warm and tight even through the condom and Sam had to breathe in deeply so he wouldn't finish too quickly and look like a total virgin. He supposed in this aspect he kind of was.

"S-Sam, please," Carina moaned and then his brain slowly started to work again as his hips moved. He forced his eyes to stay open and watched Carina's face as she moaned out for him, watched as her breasts bounced with each thrust. He kept his eyes open because he knew if he shut them for too long he'd think of someone else, of someone he wasn't supposed to be thinking about.

"Gotta, gotta turn over," She said and it took a second for Sam to get the hint, for him to regrettably pull out of her so she could get on all fours. The sight alone made it worth it and then Sam's hands were on her ass in an instant, kneading the flesh there as he successfully aligned himself.

For a few moments, he let her move all on her own, her hips bouncing back and forth onto his length and he couldn't hold back any longer. His thrusts were a little too harsh and maybe a little too brutal but she screamed for it, begged for it, and even_ came _to it. The feeling of her walls spasming against his length sent him right over the edge, his seed spilling into the condom as he fucked out the rest of his orgasm.

With a heavy breath, he pulled out of her trembling heat and on shaking legs, he threw away the grossly full condom. She was on her side when he came back, effectively giving him room to lay down beside her.

She pulled him close to her until Sam was against her chest, and something in Sam broke in that moment. He'd never touched or kissed another person other than.. Dean.. and it finally happened and he didn't know exactly what he was feeling, the only thing he knew for sure was that he was crying. He was sobbing into her chest and Carina held him through it all, and even dismissed all of Sam's rambled apologies.

"It's okay, _Cariño. _Let it out."

And Sam did. He let out every single horrible feeling he'd kept inside over the years. Every single time he'd caught Dean with someone else, every time Dean proved Sam was never gonna be enough, and when Dean finally made it clear he didn't want Sam and how fucking worthless it all made him feel and Carina held him through it all.

* * *

The years past by and Carina was still be his side. Even after the hospital, she was there, and they kept each other steady. She stayed a little longer than Sam did but they still remained in contact by phone and letters and Bobby couldn't be prouder, and Sam understood why, because at least he wasn't worried about someone else, someone he wouldn't let himself think about anymore.

When Carina was finally released, they went to the same high school, and suddenly Sam didn't care anymore that he was the social pariah. He didn't care if he was known as the weirdo that allegedly tried to kill himself, and he especially didn't care that he was also known as the dude that dated the fat girl stuck in the foster system. She didn't listen to the bullshit, and so neither did Sam, even though sometimes he wanted to fight them like he did at the hospital.

"It's different now. Stuff like that will stay on our record. We need to be good so we can get into good colleges, _Cariño._" She explained one evening as they sat and studied together for an exam. Sam had groaned dramatically and reluctantly agreed.

She had told him all about her life, about how much she loved her parents and that they still remained in contact. And that she had two siblings, both older, a brother and a sister. The brother was too old, and was sent back to Mexico with their parents. And the sister was allowed to stay under DACA, and was a medical intern at a teaching hospital in California.

Carina had been born there in the states, and because of that she felt like she had an unfair advantage over her siblings. She missed them a lot, and wished they weren't so far away. She'd only admit this on nights they'd lay in bed together, both a little broken and vulnerable.

But Sam never did let anything slip out that was too out of the way. He'd only mentioned his brother a couple of times, all haste and in the hopes that she wouldn't ask. But she did, in her gentle way, with her soft hands in his hair, "It was him, wasn't it?" Sam wasn't sure if she was expecting an outright answer, but he supposed his silence was enough.

Again, Sam couldn't find it in him to explain that even though all the facts made it seem that way, that what Sam had with his brother was just emotional manipulation, Sam just didn't feel that way about it. He figured he never would. But she didn't have to know about that.

Just like she didn't have to know about hunting. She didn't have to know that was what his father did for a living, that it was what he forced his sons into. She did know that Sam's mother had passed away in a fire, but that was all she needed to know. She knew John abandoned him, and that was okay. Everything else though..

Carina just didn't need that burden.

And so they applied to colleges, some the same and some different, even though they promised that they'd still keep in touch no matter what. Luckily for Sam, Carina got accepted into Stanford, both with a great scholarship, and so that was where they chose to go.

Bobby hugged him tightly the day he was set to leave. He let Sam know that he was always welcome in his home, and right there in front of the bus terminal the gruff man let Sam know he'd always loved him like his own son. Sam gave in then and hugged him just as tightly, and all the while Carina stood close with a smile on her face.

Though college was hard, Sam and Carina both got through it all together. And as the years passed, it was still there, that whisper of a thought, of a name Sam forced himself not to think about. His eyes scanned the vast rows of people as he held onto his diploma, and the only people he recognized were Bobby and Carina's sister, Anita.

No sign of Dad. No sign of his brother. That was just his life, Sam supposed. All Sam had left was Bobby and Carina. She stood by her sister, diploma in hand, a wide grin on her face that showed off her deep dimples.

He supposed it was okay. He had her, and she was all Sam was gonna need. And so he made his way over to them, Bobby close behind, and took her hand in his. He ignored the lurking stranger in the distance, told himself it was nothing, ignored the way Bobby would look back every so often with a strained look on his face. It wasn't worth worrying about.

Carina and Sam decided to stay in California then, much to Bobby's dismay. It just made sense considering law school, and Sam was determined to finish what he started. He was going to be a lawyer and that was all there was to it.

The years pass by more and more and suddenly Sam had gotten his wish. He was a lawyer and Carina was a social worker, and they found themselves married, _happily_ married to be exact. Sam got better at not thinking about his life before, about someone who wasn't around anymore.

Only at night would Sam find himself thinking about him. Strong hands, holding him closely, fucking into him in a way that could never compare to Carina's soft touches. Sam guessed she noticed. She was good at that-always in tune with Sam's emotions and maybe that was why he came home one evening to find her smiling devilishly, urging him to take a shower with her. He, of course, agreed.

It wasn't at all what he expected. She really just washed him, hands slow and gentle and kisses sweet and Sam had enjoyed that. He hadn't tensed when her hands found his bottom, it just wasn't that big of a deal to him, but once she actually squeezed the flesh there, he couldn't help the involuntary moan that escaped his lips.

Her eyes changed then. The sweetness that was always there quickly switched to lust blown pupils, "Carina.." Sam warned, but didn't do much to not be turned around. The shower was a decent size, big enough for the both of them, but it probably wasn't meant for that. It probably wasn't meant for Sam's too tall stature, front pressed up against the tile as Carina fell to her knees behind him.

"So pretty, Sammy."

Sam's eyes squeezed shut, another moan slipping through as that one sentence brought him back to the one person he wasn't supposed to be thinking about. He could feel Carina's tongue on him, in him, and that broke just about half of the walls he'd been building over the years. He couldn't help but think _Dean_, _Dean_, _Dean_, and he was so close, begging Carina to let him come, "Please.. please.. let me come.."

Carina cursed under breath, "_Mierda! _Yes, baby, yeah." And then she plunged her tongue back in and wrapped her hand around his length and he was done for, tears springing from his eyes as he mouthed his big brother's name.

Guilt washed over him in waves. He hadn't exactly felt all that great after, but he couldn't exactly leave Carina waiting. Her newfound dominance was quickly fading as she fingered herself, begging Sam to fuck her and so he did. He had her pressed against the tile just as she had him and he fucked her deeply, arms wrapped around her waist as he laid out across her back, their skin slapping together at a violent pace but she liked that. And so did he.

She'd come to learn that a few weeks later as Sam eventually let them dabble in his submissive side. It had been hard at first, and he let Carina think it was because he was used to being the dominant one. Which, wasn't at all true, but she didn't need to know that.

They had a long talk about the spectrum of sexuality and Carina made it a point that just because he liked that stuff didn't automatically mean he was attracted to men, that it was just normal. She had said this lightly, as if it was an open door for him to come out if he needed to, just in case. Sam figured it was about time to say it out loud. He wasn't ashamed of it.

"I'm, uh.. actually bisexual. I've.." Sam sucked in a breath, and forced himself to think of someone else.. Of.. Miles. "I've been with guys." Okay, so maybe he and Miles didn't exactly do anything, but that night out was something special to Sam, even if what happened after was the true highlight.

Her eyes lit up then. "Me too! Well, pansexual." And then she went on to explain what that meant and when she first kissed a girl, and when she first had the taste of pussy on her tongue and she said this in such detail, with point blank eye contact and that somehow turned into Sam eating her out, her hands tugging at his long hair, something he loved maybe a little too much.

* * *

The cases Sam had to deal with at work drained him, so sometimes it was just nice to come home to his hard working wife, ready for anything. While their relationship was far from perfect, as they'd have little fights here and there, it was still the most normal Sam ever thought he'd have.

Normal, with a side of really kinky sex and Sam was more than okay with that.

Kinky would definitely be the word to describe Carina. Especially one evening after dinner, when Sam found her in their bedroom completely naked besides the thick strap on covering her womanhood.

"Jesus Christ.." Sam rasped, but didn't protest. In fact, he really fucking needed it. He wasn't one for threesomes, as he didn't like the thought of sharing or even being shared, so he'd never ask. But that, the feeling of being filled was a want he buried deep down inside.

And Carina had to know that. She was so intuitive that way. She worked him open, which was was easy, considering it wasn't the first time her fingers had been there. Sam slipped into a sub space rather quickly, which was something that tended to happen when he was like that.

It made it harder to keep his barriers up. It made it harder not to think of him.. Of Dean. He'd imagine his brother's fingers, thicker than Carina's, spreading him open like he did that day. He was on all fours for his wife, and she was saying such dirty things in Spanish and in English, how she was going to fuck him hard, just like he deserved, because he was so good, such a good boy for her.

It made Sam feel so young, so needy. He bucked into her hand, four fingers in him already, and she knew then that he was ready. It didn't hurt as bad as Sam remembered, but Sam chalked it up to proper prepping and lube. If anything, it just felt like a stretch, with little to no burn. And Sam needed it like that, so he begged her to move, to _please_ not hold back.

She did not. She gripped at his hips and rolled hers, their skin slapping together obscenely. The walls he'd so carefully crafted were gone, at least for the moment, and the image of Dean came at full force. And yes, he knew it was wrong, that he should only be thinking about his girlfriend, but those moments were all he was going to have.

So he let himself have that. He let himself remember Dean and his beautiful face and build, those freckles scattered everywhere and, _fuck, _he wished he spent more time kissing them. He remembered the amulet and how Dean never took it off-he remembered tugging onto it as his brother fucked into him, _so pretty for me, Sammy. _He wasn't sure if Carina had been the one to say that, but it was Dean's voice in his head, his resolve suddenly crumbling as she found his prostate.

"_De.._" Sam mumbled incoherently into the pillow, his eyes rolling back as that spot got hit repeatedly. _Need to come, Sammy? _Sam heard the question but could hardly answer, he was too busy, too caught up in the fantasy. But he did need to come, needed it so badly, his cock bright red and in need of attention. He wouldn't touch, no no, he needed permission first-

"Touch yourself, _Cariño." _She breathed, her nails digging into his skin and that felt nice despite the fact that he was brought back to the reality where the person inside him wasn't his brother, but his lovely girlfriend.

He didn't waste time, his hand pumping himself hard and he wasn't surprised when all he needed were a few good strokes and then he was gone, his come spilling onto the conveniently placed towel beneath him.

He knew that moment was supposed to be special, but he couldn't help but feel numb. He hoped it didn't show as he turned over and helped Carina with her own orgasm. He had her sit on his face, admittedly to avoid talking about it, and it wasn't like she minded as Sam tongue fucked her until she came hard against his mouth.

She held him close that night, Sam's head on her chest just like their first time. They didn't talk about it. Carina knew better than to ask. Sam didn't realize how much it would hurt to remember Dean. Because he wasn't having sex at that specific time, he could only see Dean in those moments when they weren't doing that stuff. When it was just Dean smiling and ruffling a hand through his baby brother's hair and telling him how much he loved _his_ Sammy.

Sam could hardly remember the last time he thought of his brother's name that much in one setting. It was a little too late for that night since he already opened that can of worms, but he knew that when the morning came, he'd have to work on getting those walls back up.

Thinking of Dean in any capacity was scary and bad and just.. it made him want to hurt. And that was something he and Carina had promised not to do anymore. And so he just held onto her, to Carina, to the person who had been there for him, the one person he was sure would never leave.

* * *

Sam loved Carina. He loved the days where she dressed up for work in her dresses and pant suits, her long hair styled and makeup done. He also loved the days when she was on a day off, her hair in a messy bun and contacts out, just her and her big glasses, playing on the Xbox.

Sam loved her, and yet there he was, on the phone, anxiously chewing on the tips of his fingers. Carina was at work, an emergency call, and for the first time in a while Sam found himself alone with his thoughts.

He had been getting the all too familiar urge to talk to Dean and it was stupid, so damn stupid that he found a small shred of his childhood need to be near his brother.

And so that was why he was on the phone, calling his Uncle Bobby. "That you, Sam?" The man answered, as if he didn't have caller ID or like they hadn't just talked a week ago.

"Yeah.. S'me." Sam tried his best not to let his voice shake too much. "How are things?" He asked, his voice casual. Bobby gave a light laugh, and there was some rustling in the background as the older man spoke.

"Pretty good, I gotta say. Jody has been taking right good care of me." Then there were some giggles from the background and Sam couldn't help but really smile at the sound.

"That's good, Bobby." Sam sighed, his feet drifting from one spot to the other. "I was, uh.. wondering, could we.. Um, talk in private for a second?" His heart thudded in his chest as Bobby said okay. _I'll be right back, _it was a whisper, obviously not meant for Sam but for Jody and then the sound of a kiss that Sam would definitely never bring up.

After a few moments of silence, Sam knew Bobby was heading upstairs, could hear those old floor boards creek. Sam was still biting on his nails as he waited for the old hunter to finally acknowledge him.

"Alright. Mind telling me what the matter is, boy? I can hear the tremor in your voice from a mile away." Bobby said, his voice gruff but.. oddly gentle at the same time. The same voice Sam was used to from the years in his care. It warmed him slightly.

"Bobby, you know I.." Sam licked his lips and shook his head, "You're like a father to me. You always were there for me. Even.. even before." Sam said the last part slowly, and could physically feel Bobby grow stiff from other line. Uncomfortable silence was starting to grow.

"Is everything okay?" Bobby asked after while. Sam let out a breath and rubbed a hand over his face.

"I don't know." Sam's head thumped back against a kitchen cabinet. "I just.. do you know how dad is doing?" Admittedly, he didn't really give a damn about how John was doing. It just seemed safer to start there. "...how _Dean_ is doing?"

The older man's sigh was long and filled with dread. "Sam.." The young Winchester could practically see Bobby shaking head. "Thought you'd be over this by now.." His voice his soft, not judging, but Sam couldn't help but feel that way. Because it wasn't like that. Sam _was_ over it.

Wasn't he?

"I _am _over it, Bobby." Sam's tone was strong and clear and hell, it even helped him believe it some more. It even worked on Bobby's part, because as soon as Sam heard another sigh of a different pitch, he knew he was going to get what he wanted.

"I haven't talked to John in a long while. And.. I haven't talked to.. talked to Dean. Not since he.." Bobby cleared his throat and Sam winced at the implications, "anyway. I don't know what they're up to these days. Haven't really wanted to find out, to be honest with ya. But.. I will, Sam. I'll try to get in touch with them and get back to you.. if this is what you really want, that is."

And it was. Without a doubt, this was what Sam needed most of all was his big brother.

He thanked Bobby and got off the phone. He knew it was going to be an anxious wait before Bobby got back to him with new information. And it sure didn't help that it was the first night Sam dreamt of Dean, a Dean who was older, in a grimy motel bathroom somewhere, tears trailing down his freckled cheeks..

...Gun pressed tightly against his own temple.

* * *

Bobby didn't want to do what he was about to do. It had been years since he'd last spoken to John. The older Winchester would pop up here and there while Sam was in school, which usually meant five minute phone calls about how Sam was holding up. And then that damn graduation. John had been standing in the distance, just watching, in an old suit to blend in but he made no move to talk to Sam. Which was probably smart.

Bobby hadn't talked to him then either. In all honesty, Singer had been a little irritated. John had stopped calling after Sam was let out of the institution, and seeing him there and not doing anything just seemed ridiculous.

Which was why he was reluctant to make that call. It took him a full day before he finally fulfilled Sam's request. He waited until Judy was away at work, and grabbed his cell and dialed John's many numbers.

The bastard didn't answer a single call.

Bobby threw the phone down onto the table in frustration. He had to calm himself. He went into the yard and worked on old junkers until the sun went down. He'd always felt at ease there, hands greased up from the day's work. It was nighttime when he heard Judy come outside, urging him to get in the house.

Her voice sounded urgent, and that got him moving in an instant. He couldn't be too careful. The last time he cared about someone like he cared about Jody.. it didn't end well. So he practically ran up his porch, the grease smeared over his hands, arms and face were instantly forgotten as he gripped tightly at the pistol in the holster.

When he made it to her, she just waved him into the house and he followed her, and honestly, he didn't know what he was expecting. All he really knew for sure was that he wasn't expecting a beat up looking John Winchester to be sitting at his dinner table.

Neither of them said a word. They just stared, tension thick in the air.

Jody cleared her throat, and turned her attention to Bobby, "You go wash up. I'll tend to him." Singer gave the old Winchester one last cold stare before making his way up the stairs to take a shower.

He gave himself an hour to wash and go about the situation with a clear head. As he made his way back down to the first floor, he could smell Jody's cooking and just muffled speaking.

John was sitting in the same spot, just less bloody. He had a bandage on his temple and most of the blood had been washed away, besides what remained on the front of his shirt. He suspected most of it wasn't John's anyhow.

Bobby sat down in his usual spot and the silence continued. He could only force a small smile as Jody laid down his plate and beer and then John's, "Thank you." John whispered, and Jody only have a short nod in response.

"I'll be eating in the living room. It seems like you two have some catching up to do. Just.. please don't kill each other." Jody managed, her small hand gave Bobby's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before leaving the room entirely.

Bobby took a big gulp of his beer, concentrated on the bitter taste and let it ease his nerves. When he opened his eyes, John was looking right at him. Right through him with that cold stare, the same from Sam's graduation.

And that set Bobby off in about two seconds.

"What're you doin' here, Winchester?" Bobby asked, voice thick with contempt. John cringed at the question, his eyes flashing the first real emotion: hurt. It was gone just as quickly.

"I was taking care of a vamp nest a few towns out." John mumbled as he took a bite of the pork chop in front of him. "Noticed you called. Thought I'd stop by."

"You took care of a nest by yourself?" Bobby guessed he knew the answer to that as John looked up at him, and for the first time Bobby saw the bags under his eyes. He looked so much older.

"Yeah." John deadpanned as he rubbed a hand over the bandage. "I haven't had a hunting partner in a long time." He sighed, his hand moving to the cold beer in front of him.

Bobby thought of Dean then. He let himself truly think about the young man for the first time in years. He was a happy kid. Bobby remembered his crude jokes and love for the Impala. He could feel his heart jump to his throat at the memory.

"Where is he, John?" Bobby whispered, his fingers gripping tightly at the bottle. The Winchester looked up at him then, confusion laced in his features. "_Dean_. Where is Dean?" Bobby clarified, his tone clear and louder that time.

Another flash of hurt and then John shook his head, wiping a hand over his bearded face. "After everything happened.. Dean just.. he went out on his own. We only talk once in a blue moon." Another sigh escaped him as he explained that Dean didn't want much else to do with him. Essentially, he'd lost both his boys and he'd really rather not talk about it.

"What have you been doing, then? You've just been moving along, hunt by hunt, _alone_? No home base?" Bobby's eyes went from John's face to his hands, where there no more traces of dirt and blood, where he could finally see the gold wedding band around his finger.

John followed his gaze and then sighed. "I have a family now. My wife, Kate, and.. our son, Adam. They're my home base." He fiddled with the ring a bit before looking back up at Bobby, who was giving him a hard look.

"Don't, Bobby. Don't look at me like that. I will always love my boys.. and Mary." His tone was pained and full of regret, and for whatever reason, Bobby couldn't find it in him to argue. In a way, he guessed he understood.

"Not saying you deserve to know, but since you're here.. do you want to hear about how Sam is doin'?" Bobby asked begrudgingly. John's face actually lit up, or something close to it, as he slowly nodded.

And so, Bobby let the man know that his son was just about fully grown, a full time lawyer and married to his high school sweetheart. Or, well, mental hospital sweetheart? Anyway, John already knew about that. It didn't really matter. Carina was a good girl-woman-and took good care of Sam.

Bobby had never seen John smile like he had in that moment. It was bittersweet and sad all at once. "So, he.. he's happy? That's good." John breathed as he sat back in the chair. "At least one of my boys are happy." He whispered, and Bobby just barely got it.

He wished he could prove that Sam was actually happy and over all of the things that happened in the past. But that phone call, Sam asking him to get in touch with his family for the first time in years.. it felt like that maybe Sam wasn't as "over it" as he'd been putting on.

He put that thought on the back burner for the time being as John began to ask him about Jody. Hearing her name always put Bobby in a better mood, and so he got them both another beer and it somehow felt, for a little bit at least, normal.

He knew that the next day, after John got his affairs in order and got on his way back to his new family, he was for sure going to call back Sam and give him what information he could.

What he wasn't expecting was John to hand him a folded piece of paper on his way out.

There in John's chicken scratch was Dean's new phone number.

Bobby simply shook his head and tucked it away.

* * *

Sam hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep in his office. It had been in the plan to put the paperwork away at around nine and get in bed with Carina, but somehow he ended up with his head resting on his folded arms.

He sort of known he was sleeping, because he could recognize the dream. It was a different setting, a different bathroom, in a different motel; and there was Dean. That time Dean was covered in blood, and Sam could tell right away that it wasn't his. Probably fresh from a hunt.

Dean looked so tired and just.. _done_. He always looked like this in those dreams. And his gun was pressed against his temple again, and even though Sam knew it was a dream, he still found himself running from his hidden corner and screaming, _stop, Dean, stop!_

And then Dean would stop, dropping the weapon with a clatter in the sink. He'd be sobbing, tears rolling down his freckled cheeks, calling out his brother's name, _Sammy.. so sorry, Sammy.._

Sam's heart broke at the sound of the nickname. He hadn't heard it from Dean in so long. He'd only hear it in those dreams, and they'd feel so real sometimes that Sam would get goosebumps all over.

Sam's arm raised, his fingers stretching towards Dean's shoulder. And just as his fingers touched the blood soaked fabric, he woke, drool down his chin and heart hammering in his chest as his phone rang loudly next to his ear. The screen flashed Bobby's contact name and picture.

Sam answered quickly, fingers rushing to click the green accept button. "Hello? Bobby?" He called out once it was on his ear. He'd been waiting for days to get an update. He didn't even mind Bobby was calling at-Sam took a quick look at the wall clock-half passed twelve.

"So, son, I figure you want me to get straight to the point. This is all I have right now.." Bobby sighed before telling Sam everything he'd recently learned. That John, _dad_, had gotten married and started a new family.

Sam wished he could say he didn't care. He truly wished he could deny the pang in his chest at the thought of his dad starting over, being happy. And Sam knew it was childish, that he was too grown to be feeling that way, but damnit, why couldn't things have been different?

He took in a deep breath to calm himself. It was definitely going to be a lot to unpack with his therapist, but oh well. What he was truly worried about was an update about his brother, and when he didn't get one, he couldn't help but be disappointed.

"Are you sure there's nothing-" Sam's voice was cut off by a scream, a high pitched one coming from upstairs. He knew Bobby heard a bit off it too, but Sam couldn't even begin to bring that up to him because he'd already hung up.

His cell phone was in a tight grip in his fist as his long legs made the run up the stairs incredibly short. "Carina?!" He called out as soon as he made it through the door. The bedside lamp was all the light there was in the room, and Carina was sobbing, gripping at her nightshirt.

Sam turned on the main light so he could see here better, and nothing could have prepared him for the sight in front of him.

Blood pooled around her bottom and up her back, staining the sheets and her clothes. He moved quickly then, pulling her away from the mess and onto the floor with him as he dialed 911. It was all down her legs, the dark red mess of it all, and she was crying into his shoulder, babbling about things in Spanish, things he couldn't even begin to understand at the moment even though he'd been practicing.

"It's okay, Carina. The ambulance is on the way." He tried to assure her, but it wasn't working. She was still just crying, "_Lo siento mucho.._" And Sam definitely understood that. He shook his head and held her even closer.

It was hard to let go when the ambulance finally came. It was even harder to hear that he'd have to follow them in his own car so they could stabilize her without distraction.

Sam white knuckled the steering wheel as he followed those flashing lights. Guilt tore through him like a knife as he realized just how damn selfish he was. He'd been worrying so much about all the wrong things and not about his own wife.

He hadn't noticed those weeks where she'd be sick in the mornings, or when she mentioned her period was late, only because her cycle had always been irregular, he'd try to rationalize. But the truth was he'd been too caught up in the memory of his brother, needing his presence for whatever stupid reason.

All he really knew for sure was that when the doctor came to him and informed him that Carina had suffered a miscarriage, was that nothing else mattered. Not Dad, not Dean, not even Sam himself.

The only person that mattered to Sam at that point was Carina. And that was how it should have been in the first place, but it seemed it took seeing Carina like that for him to finally come to his senses. He held her close that night on the small hospital bed, not that she minded. She clung to him and through a broken whisper she said,

"My first miscarriage was at thirteen. My body was too young; it wasn't meant for that or even the abuse that caused it.. but I thought.." She lifted herself up so she could look at him, so close that Sam could see the light freckles against her nose, "I thought it would be different this time. I was going to surprise you, Sam_._ _Que estupida sorpresa.."_

Sam's heart clenched in his chest, the guilt from earlier was back at full force. She was carrying their _child_. And then she wasn't. And that did hurt. They'd talk about making a family here and there, and Sam did want one. Carina would make a great mom and maybe-just maybe-Sam could make a good dad too. He just had to get his priorities in order, but it was unfortunate that it had to be something so delicate to cause that to finally happen.

"No, love. Not stupid." He leaned in then and kissed her lips gently. "When you're ready.. or if you still want to.. we can try again." Sam said, his tone cautious as he pulled away. She shut her eyes and let out a deep breath before resting her forehead against his.

"Yes, _Cariño_. I want to keep trying. I want us to be a _familia_."

Family. The sound of it made Sam's heart clench yet again. He didn't really know it until right then, but that, a family, was exactly what he craved more than anything.

* * *

The road to becoming a family was a rough one. It took almost three years, many fertility treatments and several unfortunate miscarriages before they finally got to the point where Carina was finally in her third trimester.

"I think this is finally it, Sam." Carina said one morning as she stared at her half naked body in the mirror, her baby bump round and forming some stretch marks. She didn't mind them and neither did Sam as he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her head.

"I think so, too." He whispered as his hands cradled his wife's tummy. "Wish we knew the sex already.. I want to know if we're having a Javier or a Mary.." Sam murmured, his thumbs running across her soft skin. She laughed softly and leaned back against his chest.

"It's better this way." She sighed, her hands intertwining with Sam's. Sam knew she was right as he kissed her tenderly before eventually leading her to the bedroom.

* * *

Sam had fooled himself into believing that 'normal' was meant for someone like him. In his defense, how could he not? He had a beautiful wife and daughter and a good paying job. The definition of normal.

Why would he have to worry about his nightmares? They meant nothing. They would just shift back and forth between Dean, the usual gun pressed to his temple; to Carina, split open and burning against the ceiling, just like his mother.

They were horrific, no doubt about it. But they were just dreams. And with that thought, Sam would tuck it away into the dark recesses of his mind. Because why worry about it when your life was blissfully normal?

And so, Sam noticed nothing different on that cold December night. He had finished up his paperwork for his latest case, and was able to go to bed early. He'd gotten their little girl, Mary, to sleep first. It was unusually easy. All she needed was a warm bottle and a good go in the rocking chair and she was out like a light.

He kissed her forehead after laying her down in her crib, his fingers gently brushing over her dark curls. Carina was standing in the doorway, a fond smile playing at her lips as she waited for her turn.

"You're a natural." Carina said as she kissed him goodnight. She decided she was going to stay up a little late and binge some Law and Order: SVU. He would have joined her but he was too exhausted. He passed out the moment his body hit the mattress.

For whatever reason, he didn't dream that night. Not even the one about Dean, the one he'd been having for _years. _Just nothing. Pitch black nothingness... until the end.

A blood curdling scream invaded the darkness. And then there was the heat, so much heat. And then-crying? A baby crying?

_Mary?_

He jerked awake, drenched in sweat and panting. The crying was definitely real, and belonged to his daughter. The smell of smoke was too strong and suddenly he was running to the end of the hall where Mary's nursery was. Sam kicked the door down without a second thought and there was-oh god..

Yellow eyes,

Staring straight at him.

Sam couldn't really see a face. Just a toothy grin amongst the flames and then he was gone. He was left with the sight of Carina's scorched corpse on the ceiling and Mary's crying piercing his ears.

Through a ragged, broken sob, Sam picked up his six month old and _ran. _

* * *

Sam's life crumbled around him in the span of a few weeks. His house was gone; burned to the ground along with his wife. His job decided to give him a paid vacation considering the circumstances but Sam had a sinking feeling he was going to lose that, too.

He had Anita's help the first week after.. after he lost Carina. She let him crash at her place until he was able to get himself together enough to get on the road to South Dakota, to Bobby. Anita didn't mind though, she loved her niece, and was just as heartbroken as Sam was that she lost her little sister.

On the day he was set to leave, she hugged him tightly. "You were the best thing that ever happened to her." She said through a shaky whisper. He sucked in a harsh breath as he hugged her back. If only she knew how wrong that actually was.

He made sure Mary was strapped in her car seat properly and then he was gone. Being on the road helped just a little to clear his mind, eased his nerves if only slightly. But then he found himself in a hotel room late at night, Mary in her bassinet refusing to sleep. She cried for hours and nothing helped. Sam couldn't help but feel like she was crying out for her mother.

Life was so cruel. What was the _point? _What was this demon's vendetta against his family that caused his mother and Carina to lose their lives? And why the fuck did the supernatural always have to sneak its way around no matter how long Sam tried to run away from it?

Sam took a good long look in the mirror that night, at the dark circles under his eyes and the growing beard on his face. The rage in his slanted eyes. He looked.. he looked like John.

It was then that he finally understood why John was the way that he was. It didn't make it right, that was something Sam knew for damn sure. But he still found it in him to understand.

Sam prayed he didn't follow in the man's footsteps.

He slept alone on that motel bed, the bassinet close by. It was nearing three in the morning and she was finally out. Sam laid on his side, his hand trailing the empty space beside him. His tired brain flickered between an image of Carina and then Dean, before finally settling on his big brother.

He supposed that it only made sense. Crusty motel rooms were where they spent their youth. It was a bed like that one where Dean soothed every nightmare and where they shared their first.. everything.

"I miss you, De." Sam said out loud as his eyes drifted shut. The last thing he could make out was the memory of Dean reaching out to touch his face.

* * *

Bobby welcomed them into his home like the youngest Winchester belonged there. Which, was to be expected, but it still felt good having Bobby hug him close. It didn't make the anger go away, but it did make Sam feel good nonetheless.

Bobby and Jody gushed over Mary and her full head of hair. "She is perfect, Sam." Jody cooed from her position on the couch. Mary was still in her little cradle of a car seat, swaddled up in warm blankets to protect her from the cold winter outside.

"Can I.. can I hold her?" Bobby asked, his voice small and hesitant. _Well that's out of character, _Sam thought with a small smile as he gently scooped her up and gingerly placed her in Bobby's arms.

"Oh, sweetie, look. She's smiling at you." Jody said as she leaned in close enough to wrap an arm around him. Sam took a closer look and yes, Mary really was smiling up at Uncle Bobby, her brown eyes nearly sparkling with joy.

Bobby began to blink rapidly like he was trying to hide away tears. Sam chose not to comment on it for the sake of the older man's pride.

Later on when supper was eaten and for the first time in days Mary was asleep at a decent hour, Sam found himself in Bobby's library. He was refreshing his brain on demons and why they do what they do but of course, there wasn't a clear answer for that.

Bobby came in there nearly an hour later when Jody was presumably asleep herself and beside the boy he helped raise. "Talk to me, son. What happened?"

Sam shut his eyes and took in a deep, shuttering breath. He shut the book he was reading and set it aside so he could look down at his hands.

"Carina, she.. she was on the ceiling, burning.. and I saw.." Sam sucked in a harsh breath, "Bobby, I saw the yellow eyed demon." He finally looked up at Bobby then and the older man's eyes were as wide as saucers, the color drained from his face.

"Local authorities chalked it up to faulty wiring, if you can believe it. But I know.. _you_ know.. whatever that thing was, it had to be the same thing that.." Sam trailed off, the rage inside him threatening to bubble up to the surface.

"The same thing that killed your mom?" Bobby asked rhetorically. "It checks out, I mean, from what your dad told me about that night. You were the same age. Just six months old."

"I know. And then De-... he carried me out." Sam winced outwardly. He hadn't said his brother's name out loud in so long. It didn't feel right on his tongue anymore.

They sat in silence for a moments and in those minutes Sam couldn't help but think about his brother and what he would do if he was here. Sam also couldn't help but think that even after everything, he'd do everything in his power to help Sam.

"I wasn't honest with you."

Bobby's words caused Sam to snap back to reality. He raised his brow in question and watched as Bobby straightened himself out in the seat before continuing.

"When your father came that night, he mentioned that he does talk to Dean sometimes. Not often at all. But before John left he, uh, gave me Dean's number." The last sentence came out slow and cautious. So slow in fact that Sam could barely wrap his hand around it.

"Wait." Sam lifted himself up from his seat and stood tall, practically looming over the older man.

"You lied to me?" Despite his size, his tone came out small and hurt. He hated how young he sounded then but it seemed to get the job done because Bobby was frowning.

"I didn't—"

"You said you had no update on him!" Sam's voice evened out then as he whisper shouted, mindful not to walk up Jody and his baby. "News flash, Bobby, a phone number _is_ an update!"

Bobby rubbed a hand over his face before eventually standing up. He seemed nonplussed by Sam's height as he looked up at the young Winchester.

"You were better off then and you know it."

Sam couldn't handle anymore discussion after that. He muttered a half-ass 'goodnight' and made his way over to his old room where Mary was sleeping soundly in her bassinet.

After all those years, Sam still hated that phrase. He hated that everyone just _assumed_ what was best for him.

However, he knew that, rationally speaking, Bobby was right. Sam didn't need to know. Sam and Carina were going through some big things back then. Important things that finally led to Mary. So yeah, Sam knew in that sense that he was better off not getting involved.

It didn't stop the ache, the echo of a young version of himself crying out for his big brother's presence. He let out a long sigh and just sat at the end of his bed and watched Mary sleep. The innocence in her face caused a smile to play at his lips, his fingers gently carding through the little patch of curls.

"I'll stop the thing that did this, sweetheart." Sam promised, "No matter what."

* * *

Everything sane in Bobby told him that this was a bad idea. Letting Sam leave after weeks of being under his roof was a horrible idea. He wanted to keep him and Mary there with him, safe and sound.

But Sam wasn't a kid anymore. He was a grown man, a _father_. He was fully capable of making his own decisions. It still didn't make watching him leave any easier.

"So, that's it?" Bobby couldn't help but say as Sam finished strapping Mary in. "I finally give you your brother's number and, what? You just take off?" It was cold outside, his breath coming out as a small fog with each bitter word.

Sam let out a deep sigh as he shut Mary's door. "I don't mean to just _take off," _Sam made sure to put emphasis on Bobby's phrasing, "but you have refused to help me with this. He's my only chance to stop Yellow Eyes."

"You can hardly say his name out loud." Bobby pointed out, his tone dry. Sam pursed his lips, brows furrowing in both hurt and anger. "Now, I don't mean to be a hard ass. I'm just trying to keep you from ending up like your father."

Sam's fist twitched at his side, like he was aching to hit Bobby for saying that. Bobby knew he wouldn't actually do that though. Sam had more sense than that. The younger man just shook his head and made his way to the driver's side of his Dodge Charger.

Bobby sighed in defeated and made his way over to the door as Sam was putting on his seatbelt. Bobby knocked on the window and could see Sam's exasperated groan through the frost. Sam begrudgingly rolled his window down then, looking up at Bobby expectingly, an annoyed expression etched onto his features that Bobby would have usually found amusing in different circumstances.

"I see now that I can't stop you-"

"We've established this already-"

"_But," _Bobby continued as though he wasn't interrupted, "I will be here for you, Sam. If this is the route you need to take, then I'll stand with you, no matter what. You understand?"

Many emotions swam through Sam's features before finally settling on something close to gratitude and appreciation.

"I understand, Bobby, and.. thank you."

With that, he rolled his window back up and drove off.

* * *

It was late before Sam finally found a nice enough hotel. It had its own kitchenette, so it was useful for storing Mary's formula and solid foods. Obviously, she didn't care much for the interior. She was just sleeping away in her car seat as Sam set up her bassinet.

He put all of her sheets in place and then scooped her up gently, cooing softly so she wouldn't stir. He changed her diaper and then her clothes before swaddling her perfectly and setting her down into her bed.

He smiled to himself as he watched her sleep. He was fine, he could do this. He could be all that Mary needed and—

A ponding in his skull pushed him back, made him fall on his bottom against the mattress. He held his face in his hands as his the pain morphed into something else, into—

_What..the hell_, Sam thought as he took in his surroundings. He was in a motel bathroom. The setting was all too familiar. But that time-..it wasn't a dream. Sam was wide awake.

Sam was wide awake and yet he could see the moment Dean walked in, gun in hand.

_No, no, no—_

With a sharp gasp, Sam was back in his own space. There had to be a reasonable explanation. He was exhausted and just a little damaged from trauma. That had to be it.

Even with the logic, it didn't stop him from grabbing his cell to quickly dial his brother's number. He'd tried to call him once earlier, but chickened our after the first two rings. He listened to every single ring that time, dread filling the pit of his stomach. It only got worse when he was sent to an automated message because of course Dean wouldn't have his voicemail set up.

Another round of sharp pain sent him back into the motel bathroom, where Dean was standing in front of a mirror, counting to himself. He dug the gun into his temple even harder.

Sam forced himself beck to reality. That hurt worse, like his body was being ripped apart. He ignored his pain and dialed his brother's number again.

He still didn't answer.

"Fuck!" Sam shouted, tears streaming down his face for whatever stupid reason. Mary woke from his outburst, and began to cry out. Sam let himself sob into his hands for a few pathetic moments as he begged for whatever causing him to see those things would just.. _stop_.

And, thankfully, it did.

It gave him enough time to hold Mary so he could calm her. She was still upset, but she wasn't wailing like before. He took out his phone and decided that he would try one last time.

He shifted in a way that made Mary start crying again, but at the same exact moment, the ringing actually stopped.

Dean actually.. he _answered_.

"Hello?" Dean answered, his tone sharp. A relieved sob spilled from Sam's throat at the sound of his brother's voice. Whatever he just saw wasn't real. Dean was okay.

"Dean." Sam breathed. He still wasn't used to saying it, but it felt.. good. He shook his head once Dean didn't respond, and tried to go straight for the point. Mary's crying wasn't helping with that.

"I know you-you probably don't want to hear from me. I just.. just had no one else-Shh, shh, Mary, it's okay-Dean? H-hello?" Sam stuttered out, panic filling in his chest because Dean still wasn't responding.

"Yeah. M'here." Dean said quickly and Sam sighed in relief before cooing at Mary some more. She was going to end up waking their temporary neighbors.

"Are.. are you okay, Sam?" Dean asked, using that soft whisper of a voice he'd use on Sam when they were young. Another sob broke through, a broken sound that time.

"No.. We're not okay. I.. I need you, De." Sam admitted before he could really stop himself. He felt so pathetic saying that after everything, but it had worked somehow.

Sam listened to the background noise of Dean packing his stuff away, and let his eyes wonder around his own room before finally landing on the alarm clock beside his bed.

It was officially January 24th.

"Oh, and, uh.." Sam whispered as Mary's eyes began to shut again, "happy birthday."

Sam didn't miss the happy sigh come from the other end. His chest swam with something all too familiar and was glad when Dean decided to get off the phone. They'd be seeing each other soon anyhow.

He laid Mary back down in her bed and then went to his own, where he laid flat on his back with his eyes to the ceiling.

Sam promised himself then that no matter what, he and Dean wouldn't go back to how they were before. They were just going to kill Yellow Eyes and most likely go their separate ways.

He had a sinking suspicion that it wasn't going to be that easy.

* * *

**Author's Note: this took so long to write down. I have a plan, sort of, on how I want this to go. **

**I suck at plans.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. **


	3. Chapter One

Dean's hands shook with pure anxiety, and it didn't help that it was cold as balls outside. He was standing right in front of the hotel Sam was staying in, and everything in him was telling him to leave, to turn back. And yet, his feet were moving. He was on a sort of autopilot as he talked with the man at the front desk, and down a too long hallway to Sam's room.

He took in a deep breath before checking himself out. He looked.. okay. His clothes were a little wrinkly from the long drive, and he hadn't shaved in a couple weeks. Okay so maybe he looked a little homeless. He tried not to let himself feel insecure about that as he knocked on the door.

His heart hammered in his chest as he heard heavy but cautious footsteps. There was hesitation, Dean could practically feel it, before Sam finally opened the door, and-

Jesus Christ.

Sam was _tall._

Dean sputtered for a couple of seconds before finally looking up at Sam's face. There was a sadness there in his features even as the younger man forced a smile.

"Hey." Sam said, his voice deep and gruff and Dean tried to ignore the weak feeling in his knees.

"Hi, Sammy."

Sam's smile faltered a little bit as he backed up from the door way. "Come in." And then Sam was walking away from him. It took Dean a couple seconds before he realized he could follow that time.

When he fully made his way to the room, Sam was feeding a baby. A baby apparently named Mary. She looked right at Dean when he walked in, her lips slightly covered in banana baby food. Sam cleaned it up with the little spoon, but her eyes were still on Dean.

"She yours?" Dean found himself asking after awhile. That somehow caused a small chuckle to come from the other Winchester.

"No, Dean. I stole her from the baby factory." Sam's voice oozed with sarcasm, but there wasn't any heat to it. It made Dean grin.

"Har, har, har." Dean muttered as he made a few slow steps over to them. The baby had light brown skin and black curls at the top of her head, and her hands were so small as they reached out.

Dean blinked down in confusion for a few moments before reaching out with just his pointer finger. Mary gripped onto it, her nearly toothless smile melting Dean's heart in seconds.

"She likes you." Sam said, his tone seemingly casual but tight at the edges. Dean let out a nervous chuckle as he looked from his brother to Mary. He wanted to joke, to say something along the lines of _who can blame her? _But that felt weird. Being in the same room with Sam after all that time was fucking bizarre. Hell, being near a baby was its own form of weirdsville. His own niece, no less. _What a concept, _Dean thought idly as he playfully shook her hand.

Mary's face shifted in that exact moment. It went from happy to strained and bright red and Dean didn't know what to do with himself.

"Is she..?"

"She is." Sam said through a grunt, "Time for a diaper change, little one." Sam cooed as he lifted her up. Dean stood awkwardly in the small kitchenette as Sam sat on the bed and worked on cleaning up the poopy mess. Dean tried to keep his disgust to himself. He just wasn't used to babies and their various.. smells.

When it was all done, Sam laid her down in her bassinet. The only reason Dean remembered what those were called was because he could vaguely remember Dad having one for Sam. The younger man stood there for a few more minutes, just rocking it back and forth before finally letting out a long sigh.

"She's asleep." Sam explained in a whisper. He tiptoed his way over to the corner of his own bed and motioned over to a chair in the window. Dean nodded, hyperaware of every sound his boots made against the linoleum flooring.

Once his bottom hit the cushion of the chair, he looked up at Sam expectantly. Not that he was complaining exactly, but he had no idea what he was doing there. It must have been something bad with the way Sam had been crying on the phone. He always hated hearing him cry. He guessed some things don't ever change.

Sam licked his lips and shook his head, his hands running through his still too long hair. He looked as though he was trying not to cry, like somehow doing it person was somehow worse.

"Hey, man.. take your time." Dean whispered, his hand reaching out to touch him but it stopped midway. It wasn't a good idea to touch. So Dean just dropped his hand and thankfully, Sam hadn't even noticed.

And then his mouth finally started moving, and Dean felt frozen. He knew it was bad, but he hadn't expected.. that. It suddenly made sense as to why Sam looked the way he did. Why he looked so broken. His family had been torn apart, the same exact why theirs had been.

"I need to stop the thing that did this." Sam finally looked at Dean then, the look in his hazel eyes fierce and intense, "Will you help me?" He asked, a small tremor there in his voice like he really thought Dean was going to say no.

Dean was never good at saying no to him anyway.

_Some things really don't change, _Dean thought as he held his hand out for Sam to shake. The younger man stared at it cautiously for a few seconds before finally taking it, his grip strong and sure.

* * *

They stayed up most of the night looking for leads. Dean was surprised to find out that Sam had basically nothing. The younger man didn't know exactly where to start. Sam had an idea though, but he wasn't sure about it.

He wanted to see if anyone else went through what they did. If there was some type of pattern they were missing. And so they searched the internet to find cases where mothers had died in a fire like theirs did.

It was cutting it close at first. Dean wasn't sure they'd find anything that way. They figured their father had never thought of doing that. But he never got close to finding the thing anyway. So maybe that was what they were missing all along.

Looking deeper into older articles, they found at least two promising leads. Sam was visibly excited, so much so that he woke up the baby. He just picked her up and paced around the room to get her to quiet down. Dean just tapped at the table, not fully convinced.

"Even _if _this is what we're looking for.. how are we going to tell them that their mother's death wasn't a accident, but just some playtime for a _demon?"_ Dean asked, and immediately regretted it as he watched Sam deflate.

"Oh." He stopped his pacing, and kept his eyes on the currently sleeping baby. "Didn't think about that part." Sam sighed as he set Mary back down in her bassinet. He slowly made his way back to his own chair and rubbed hard at his eyes.

Dean frowned and looked back to the computer screen. One of the women that died, she left behind two children. A boy and a girl. The boy appeared to be the baby in that scenario.

A quick google search showed something a little more promising.

"All is not lost, man. Come check this out." Dean motioned over to the computer, and Sam was beside him in seconds, his eyes glued to the screen. Dean tried not to concentrate on Sam's body heat too much.

"Couldn't find anything new on the son for the life of me, but the daughter and another woman have their own little physic shop around the same area. I know that most of the time they're fakes, but if they're not.. they just might be more inclined to believe." Dean said, his eyes wondering the front page of their website.

Bria Bouderaux and Dior Boderaux. _Same last name? _Dean thought to himself, reaching at least two conclusions. They had to be either related somehow or.. married.

"Seems promising enough. Good catch, Dean." Sam said with a pat on the older brother's shoulder. Dean tried his best not to shiver at how big Sam's hands were, but it was hard as Sam just left it there to continue talking.

"Louisiana? That's.. that's a long drive." Sam sighed, his hand slipping away from Dean's shoulder as he moved to sit back down on the bed.

"I have to stock up on formula, diapers, and I definitely have to get new bottles, some more baby food.. god, and which car are we going to take?"

Dean listened as Sam babbled, watched as those broad shoulders tensed and how his hands shook. He didn't like seeing Sam like that. He finally got up and moved to sit beside him, with just enough distance between them to make them both comfortable.

"It will be okay, Sam. You're an amazing dad, just from the little I've seen. You will.. _we_ will figure this out as we go, okay?" Dean made sure to emphasis on the word, to make sure Sam knew that Dean wasn't going anywhere that time.

Sam finally looked at Dean then, his expression wide open and vulnerable. "Thanks, De.." Sam said, his smile small but it was there nonetheless and that paired with his old nickname for his brother made Dean's chest swell with emotion.

There was more-way more-that was being left unsaid. It hung in the air, right over their heads, but neither of them made a move to bring it up. Maybe that was a good thing, because Dean wasn't exactly ready to talk about any of it.

"I am _exhausted_." Dean said through a yawn. The drive it took to get there was long, and he hadn't even taken a power nap during it all. He looked over the room and finally noticed that there was only one bed. _Lovely_, Dean thought sarcastically.

"Do you have an extra pillow and a blanket I can use to make a pallet?" Dean asked as he finally shucked his jacket off his shoulders. Sam's eyes fell to his chest, to the necklace he'd given Dean when he was young.

He looked away just as quickly though, as if he wasn't ready to ask why Dean had kept it all those years. Dean was grateful for it. He wasn't ready either. Instead, Sam just got up and gathered extra blankets and pillows.

"Sorry, man. It completely slipped my mind." Sam explained as he unfolded one blanket and put it on the floor in front of the bed. Dean got up then because it felt odd seeing Sam do that for him. He didn't have to. Dean reached for the pillows before Sam had the chance to get to him and placed one on top of the other.

Sensing Dean's discomfort, Sam handed him the remaining blanket, an awkward little smile playing at his lips. He moved to the closet again to get his duffel bag, rummaging through it as Dean quietly kicked off his boots.

"Didn't see you carry a bag in. So.. here." Sam stood there in front of him, folded pajamas in his hands. Dean just stared at it for a few seconds. He could just go get his own bag, but he really didn't feel like getting back out in the cold. So he took them, and went to change in the bathroom.

When he came back out, he was in Sam's clothes and Sam was just in his boxers, looking like pure sin. He was so unaware, too, and that made it all worse. He was leaning over Mary's bassinet so he could give her a goodnight kiss and that made Dean's heart jump to his throat.

He kept his eyes down as he made his way to the pallet. By the time he was laying down, he could hear the bed squeak as Sam got into it.

In another life, Dean would have been in that bed with him. And it wouldn't have been weird, because they were brothers. But it was weird. And it was all his fault.

"Goodnight, De."

Dean blinked away tears. He refused to let them fall, but he wasn't sure how long that was going to last if Sam kept calling him that.

"Goodnight, Sammy."

Dean heard him suck in air at the sound of his own nickname. Dean found comfort in that, because at least he wasn't alone in feeling that way.

More squeaks and rustling of sheets, like Sam had turned over and brought the blanket over him.

Dean knew then that they wouldn't talk for the rest of the night.

All he had was silence and those pajamas, that smelled just like Sammy.

* * *

**Author's Note: I'm sorry it's so short. I'm still working out where this story is going, and it didn't feel right stuffing so much in this like I did last time. Hope you enjoyed it anyway!**


	4. Chapter Two

Seeing Dean again wasn't what Sam expected. He hadn't expected Dean to look so rough around the edges. Exactly how he looked in those dreams. Sam tried not to think about that too much. It only served to give him a migraine.

And hearing him call him Sammy was almost too much. It almost made him shut the door in his face. He didn't though. Instead he kept the door open and let Dean walk into his life again. And yeah, maybe he used Dean's own nickname once or twice, just to see his big brother's face. He got a feeling of satisfaction from it.

That was all it was though. Nothing more would come from it. And in all honesty, he really wasn't thinking about that. He was mostly thinking about how awkward it was when they had to run by Bobby's place to leave Sam's Dodge Charger.

Sam was just in the process of switching the car seat over to the Impala when Bobby came outside. He was standing on his porch, a bag over his shoulder. And Dean was standing in the gravel driveway, his hands in his pockets. They were just staring at each other. Both not saying a word.

Sam held on to the open door as he cleared his throat, "What are you doing, Bobby?" He asked, the question finally setting things in motion again. Bobby walked passed them then, making sure to at least give Dean a curt nod as he made his way to his own car.

"What's it look like? I'm joinin' ya." Bobby said as he threw his bag into the passenger seat. "Even if all you need me for is a babysitter, I'm here for you." He looked up at Dean then, his eyes softening slightly, "Both of ya."

Dean had many emotions flash over features at that moment, but could only muster up a nod. Like he was too ashamed to speak or something. The thought made Sam just a little irritated. And sad.

Bobby seemed to be satisfied enough with it as he finally got into his old car. With that, Sam gave one final look at Mary to make sure she was strapped in properly before making his way to the front seat. Dean was beside him already, right behind the wheel.

Sam hadn't fully expected the sight to be so nostalgic, but it was, and it made his chest tight and warm all at once. It reminded him of their younger days. Young Dean behind the wheel, his Sammy beside him. Hand in hand going down long country roads. Happy and carefree like nothing would ever stop them from loving each other.

He sucked in a sharp breath and shook his head. He couldn't let himself think about what used to be. All that mattered was killing the yellow-eyed demon. He couldn't let himself get distracted.

It was hard to do that though when Sam could feel Dean looking at him, too.

* * *

Days later, they all finally made it to the beautiful city of New Orleans. They managed to get two rooms at a Holiday Inn, one for Bobby and the other for Sam, Dean and Mary. Sam made sure to get two beds that time.

Dean was the one who made the call to set up an appointment with Madam Dior while Sam got Mary's bassinet set up.

Bobby had walked in then with little Mary in his arms. She kept tugging at his beard, not that the older man minded.

"Her assistant said Madam Dior has an opening in the morning." Dean said as he set his phone down on to the table. "Kinda laying the whole physic thing thick with the whole madam bullshit." He added under his breath, and instinctually Sam rolled his eyes.

"Sounds good." Sam said, and then turned his attention to Bobby. "That means you'll be here to watch Mary. I need to show you how to make a bottle. She might already be hungry." He pulled out a bottle, a canister of formula, and a jug of water from his bag.

"Fill it up to six ounces." Sam explained, despite Bobby's pained expression. Once he was done filling the bottle, he opened the can of formula. "Then take two scoops, just like this, and then mix it up. Make sure it's all liquid before you give it to her." He would rather have it be warmed up, but he didn't have a bottle warmer anymore, though he was going to have to buy one soon. And he didn't trust microwaves.

Once Sam was done shaking the bottle, he handed it right to her. She was able to grab it herself and immediately started to drink from it, her little face looking happy and satisfied.

"Seems easy enough." Bobby said as he carded his fingers through her curls.

"When she's done with that, I'll teach you how to change her diaper." Sam and Dean both couldn't help but chuckle at the way Bobby's face fell.

Bobby and Dean still hadn't spoken to one another. Sam was just glad they didn't all have to ride in the same car. It would have been worse. So when his chuckling died down, Dean's eyes just fell to the floor. Bobby took it as his cue to leave. He handed Mary to Sam and was off to bed.

"Wonder if he'll be able to actually speak to me at some point." Dean said as he kicked his boots off. Sam wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or actually speaking to him. The statement still made him tense. They both knew why Bobby couldn't really stand to look at Dean.

"...Maybe. Just give it time." Sam gave after a moment of silence. Dean hummed in response as he shucked his jacket off. He was wearing his usual flannel underneath. Dean wore those a lot back then, too.

In some ways, Dean was the same. He joked the same, smiled the same, even smelled the same. He just looked so much older, like life had taken a toll on him. There was sadness behind his smiles. The same sadness he'd see in his dreams.

Sam tried his best not to question why he wasn't having those anymore. It wasn't like he wanted them back anyway. He also couldn't help but wonder if actually having Dean there was just as bad.

It seemed to be true though, something he came to realize hours later when something woke up him up from his sleep. Dean was tossing and turning, gasping out in his sleep, "Sammy. Sorry, Sammy."

It was infuriating how hearing Dean call out for him was almost enough to get him to crawl into bed with him. It made Sam want to hold him and tell him that it was all okay.

Sam wouldn't do it. Instead, he just laid there until Dean finally stopped. Sam was eventually able to fall asleep with unshed tears behind his closed eyes.

* * *

To no surprise to Sam, he woke up feeling drained. He probably only got five hours of sleep, and that time it had had nothing to do with a baby. Mary had actually slept through the night somehow. Sam almost envied her.

Despite the way he was feeling, he made sure to pepper her little face kisses before leaving. Mary giggled and tugged at his long hair. He was going to have to teach her not to pull hair at some point, but her smile made it hard to do that.

"Come on now, boy. All this is gonna do is make her fussy when you leave." Bobby grumbled. Sam sighed in defeat and just handed her to the older man. Mary considered him for a moment but then she smiled, making the hardened hunter soften up instantly.

It gave Sam enough time to sneak away and meet Dean outside. He was leaning against the Impala, arms crossed over his chest as he watched Sam make his way over to the car. Dean looked just as tired as tired as Sam.

Which was probably why it was amusing when Dean opened his mouth minutes later when they were already on the road, "You look like shit, man." Sam raised a brow at him, an amused chuckle leaving his lips as he shook his head.

"Well if _someone_ wasn't talking in their sleep last night, I'd have less dark circles." Sam said this without thinking, and with the way Dean tensed beside him, he instantly regretted bringing it up.

"But, uh, it's.. okay." Sam stammered. Dean's jaw clenched behind his beard as he nodded, his only movement was to reach forward to turn on the radio.

Again, he felt the incessant urge to hold Dean, to tell him that it was fine, that they were fine. Sam just scrubbed a hand over his face and kept his gaze out the window, on the beautiful river until they made into the city.

Madam Dior's shop was on the main strip, but didn't look busy. It was most likely why she had opening in the first place. The street itself wasn't that busy either, so it was easy to parallel park right in front of the building that looked all too similar to a town house.

Dean took the lead and opened the door, and was the first who spoke to the woman sitting behind the desk. The nameplate let them know her name was Bria Bourderaux. She was really pretty, her skin a mocha brown and hair worn in tight, Afro-textured curls. She was probably around Dean's age, maybe just a little older, Sam guessed.

Bria gave them both a bright smile, "You guys here for the eight o'clock appointment?" Dean beamed down at her as he nodded, and all it did was make her stumble slightly as she got up from her chair. Sam could feel himself to start getting irritated already. He'd forgotten how much of a flirt Dean could be.

She led them to Dior's office and knocked only once before opening the door. Dior got up from behind her ornate desk and she was just as tall as Sam. Her skin was the same shade as Bria's, if not a tad bit darker, and her own curls were dyed blond at the ends. Her eyes were slanted and bright, her gaze nearly hypnotic.

She was gorgeous. Even Sam was floored by it, so he couldn't exactly blame Dean right then as he sauntered over to her with a raised hand.

"The name's Dean, and this right here is my brother-"

"Sam." Dior said, her smile sad, "Sam and Dean Winchester." Her tone was quiet, cautious.

"Uh.. hi." Sam said as he shook her hand after Dean dropped his, his face awestruck.

"I never gave you Sam's name.. or our last name." Dean muttered slowly, his eyes falling to Sam. He returned the glance, and then they looked back at her with a questioning gaze.

"It's something that just happens. I hear a whisper, see a vision of something or someone. I get information that way." She explained as she moved back to her own chair. Dior motioned to the other two in front of her, beckoning for them to sit.

They both did as they were told. They watched as she shuffled tarot cards in her hands, humming to herself, the sound like a lullaby.

"I don't think you two are here for a simple palm reading or a look into the future with these tarot cards. Am I correct?" She asked after awhile, flashing her eyes up at them.

Sam took the lead then and spoke first, "We're looking into the death of Sheila Bourderaux, and those who died just like her." She tensed at his words, a frown playing her lips as she set the cards down.

"I see." She said through a deep breath, but that seemed like all she was willing to say at the moment, so Sam continued.

"I'm sorry if this brings back any unpleasant memories, but her obituary says she left behind two children. A boy and a girl. The boy was just a baby when it happened." Sam explained, and she looked at him then, like she was looking into him.

"Well, you've met my sister, Bria. And I.. I was the baby." She said this slow, almost cautiously, like she was scared of their reaction. The brothers only nodded in understanding.

"...you... this happened to you two?" Dior looked between the two of them, but then her gaze stopped at the younger Winchester. "...I see.. you, Sam. Just a baby. Like I was." She wiped a tear away then as she tried to blink the vision away. The brothers looked at each other then, both suddenly realizing that Dior was the real deal.

"Yes." Sam said, his tone soft, "And that's why we're here. We're trying to see what the connection is. We feel like if we figure that out, we'll be one step closer to getting the thing that did this."

She kept silent for awhile, just taking it all in. Her eyes shut, and she was murmuring to herself. Sam could see her eyes moving through her eyelids. Dean looked as though he was about to say something, but then her eyes shot open.

"Yellow eyes." Dior let out in one heavy breath. "Ever since I was little, I would have nightmares about yellow eyes peeking at me through the darkness. You've seen this, too." The end of it didn't come off as a question at all. It was a statement.

"You've seen a lot of things, haven't you? Visions? Dreams you can't explain?" Dior did ask that time, but Sam could tell she knew the answer to that. Sam's eyes flashed to Dean's, and his older brother was already looking at him with a raised brow.

"Sam? Have you?" Dean asked-actually, it was more like he demanded. And that, for whatever reason, pissed Sam off.

Sam let out a chuckle, a cold sound. Dior tensed instantly, as they she could feel what Sam was feeling. He wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.

"What do you want me to say, Dean? I wouldn't have known they were visions at the time. But yeah, I guess. Yes. I've had visions. Vivid images of things that make me want to hurt myself. Is that enough for you, _De_?"

Sam took in a deep breath after that and shook his head. He didn't know why he was going off on Dean like that. The older brother was just asking a question, after all.

Sam was just so _tired_.

Dior took it all in then, and after a moment of silence, she stood up and unknowingly towered over them.

"That must be the connection then. The thing that did this to us somehow gave us these abilities." She walked over to her bookshelf and carded through the pages of an old book.

"Give me a day. Two at the most. I'll come back to you with new information." She seemed so determined as her eyes followed each word on the page.

"Wait, we haven't even told you what the thing is." Dean tried, but she cut him off with a raise of her hand.

"It's a demon. No doubt about it." Dior said and then was back to her book. "Bria will see you out."

And as if she knew somehow, Bria opened the door. She seemed confused at first as she asked, "What's wrong?" Dior just shook her head.

"I'll explain later. I just need space for a few hours, sis." Dior managed to give her a warm smile before grabbing more books. Bria let out a long sigh as she led the brothers to the front door.

Bria seemed so nice before, but at the moment all she looked was irritated. "You guys better not get my little sister hurt. She's been through enough already." Bria warned.

The brothers gave her as many assurances as they could, and then they finally managed to leave and go on their way.

* * *

They sat in the car for a little bit, both not saying a word. Sam couldn't get Dior's words out of his head. If what she was saying was true, then Sam really was seeing Dean attempting to end his life.

And that also meant he was getting warnings about Carina's death. Both of which he chose to ignore.

Sam was starting to get the urge to hurt himself. He could feel it in his old scars. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging tightly. Sam could also feel Dean's eyes on him. And that, for whatever reason, caused him to open his mouth.

"I would always see you, Dean. You were.. you had a gun to your head. Every night I'd have the same dream. I could see you crying, you were hurting so much, and there was nothing I could do about it."

He could feel tears running down his cheeks but he couldn't bring himself to wipe them away. His chest heaved with his sobs. Dean wrapped his arms around him and that only made Sam cry harder as he gripped tightly at his brother's jacket.

"Sammy, it's okay. It's okay. I'm sorry you had to see me like that." Dean cooed, but it only made Sam shake his head, as much as he could anyway with his head on the older man's shoulder.

"Don't apologize for that." Sam ground out. "Don't ever apologize for being sad, Dean. It's not your fault." Sam backed up as he said this, just so Dean could look into his eyes and see just how serious he was.

Dean gave Sam a sad smile, his eyes wet with his own tears. His hands cradled Sam's cheeks and the younger brother could feel his heart thudding in his chest.

"That's where you're wrong, little brother. It is my fault. Always has been." Dean sighed, close enough that his breath was ticking Sam's nose. And then the closeness was gone, because Dean pulled away, leaving Sam cold and wanting way more than he should. He turned on the radio and started driving.

Sam had no choice but to sit there, his heart still pounding. He could hardly process Dean's words. He just pressed his forehead against the cold glass and tried his best to think about other things, and not on the phantom feel of Dean's lips against his.

* * *

**Author's Note: I finally have a set plan on how I want this to go, and I'm finally excited about it again. I also want to apologize for any typos. My toddler broke my laptop so I have no choice but to write this out on my phone lol. I hope you enjoyed regardless!**


	5. Chapter Three

Dean knew he shouldn't be doing this, but he needed it. He needed the slow drag of nicotine to calm his nerves. He couldn't stand to be around Sam right then, not after the moment they shared in the Impala.

They made a quick stop to get Bobby some food for babysitting, and then they headed back to the hotel. Sam grabbed the bagged diner food and rushed inside, barely giving Dean a glance before going inside the building.

Dean had been sitting outside ever since. His nerves were fried and they had been ever since Sam said Dean had been talking in his sleep. Dean shook the thought away and took in another pull. He was only on his second cigarette and they were just as disgusting as he remembered.

He put the last off it out and put the box back in the glove compartment. He told himself he'd just throw them away later.

The real problem was, Dean still wasn't ready to face Sam.

See, Sam was never supposed to know how weak Dean was. He was never supposed to see Dean like that. And the way he cried about it only served to break Dean's heart. It was why he gave in and held Sam through his tears.

And then Sam had to go and tell him it wasn't Dean's fault. It was such a Sammy thing to say. And even though Dean knew he was wrong, there was something in him that was still broken that longed to kiss Sam. He was so close, too. He could have kissed him right in that moment and it would have ruined everything.

Dean definitely was not ready to face Sam. So he just turned on the Impala, blasted the radio, and found the nearest bar to ease his troubled mind.

* * *

Dean had been out for hours and the bartender was just about to kick him out until a familiar face popped up.

"Mr. Winchester?"

Dean turned his head with a noncommittal grunt. Right there beside him was Bria, Dior's older sister and assistant.

"Are you okay?" She asked, her dark eyes scrunched up in concern. He sat his empty glass down and gave her a small smile.

"Just fine, darlin'." He tried, but she didn't look impressed. She straightened out her glasses and let out a long sigh.

"Does this have anything to do with your appointment with my sister?" Bria asked. Dean pointedly ignored her and tried his best to ask the bartender for another drink.

The man behind the counter gave him a long look and shook his head, "You've had enough, man." And then he went and tended to the other patrons, leaving Dean just on the edge of not drunk enough.

"You want to go for a walk?" Bria suggested, her small hand on his shoulder. As he looked her over with a smirk, he conceded. They made their way into the cold night air, and it only made him feel sober. He didn't want that.

But he was already outside. And Bria was real pretty. She was talking though, and he really should be listening, but he couldn't hear anything. Maybe he was more drunk than he thought.

"Are you listening to me?" She asked, her glare hard. Dean shook his head and took in a deep breath.

"No, sorry. But I'm listening now." He stopped walking then, right beside the Impala. He gave her his full attention.

"This whole situation with Dior.. is this about our mother?" Bria's features softened as she asked. Dean gave a solemn nod in response. She let out a heavy breath and leaned against the car.

"It's crazy. I barely remember her.. but it still hurts." Bria wiped away a stray tear and Dean couldn't help but empathize with her. It was the same with his own mother. He was just four when it happened, he could only remember bits and pieces of their life before. All he really knew for sure was that he loved her so much.

"I know what you mean." Dean said through a sigh. He stood beside her and leaned against the Impala, his eyes upward. The city lights were too bright to see the stars.

She looked up at him then, "It was a... _demon_, that caused this?" She emphasized the word, like she couldn't believe she was actually using it. Dean gave another nod.

"I don't fully understand it, if I'm being honest. But I've seen what Dior can do. I kind of have to be more open to these things." Bria shrugged. "It used to be just visions before, when we were kids. But when she lost her wife.." Bria shook her head and sucked in a sharp breath.

"Her abilities got more powerful. It was scary for a while. The loss tore us apart and she was spiraling. I never stopped trying though. I got her back. And now.. I just don't want this to be the thing that tears us apart again."

Dean stayed silent for a long time, just soaking all the information in. He envied Bria's strength. Dean was too weak to try with Sam. He was the reason they got torn apart, after all. And if he had just tried harder, maybe they'd-

"I'm sorry," Bria let out, taking Dean out of his thoughts, "I don't know why I'm telling you all this. You're just.. you're easy to talk to." She admitted, her cheeks turning a slightly darker hue. Dean shook his head and gave her a real smile that time.

"It's okay. You can talk as much as you need to. Or, not. It's up to you." He said, his voice soft. She looked from his eyes to his lips and Dean knew what was going to happen next. She stood on the tips of her toes and pressed her full lips against his.

Dean wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed her up against the Impala. She moaned sweetly into the kiss, and Dean melted into it, into the sweet distraction that it was. He slotted his thigh between her legs and he could already feel her warmth through the fabric. Bria's nails clawed at his jacket as she grinded against him.

Just as Dean was about to open the back door to give them more privacy, Bria pulled away from the kiss with wide eyes. She pressed her hand to her forehead and took in a deep breath.

"I have to go. Dior needs me." Bria breathed out. Her lipstick was smudged and Dean figured some of it was on him, too. He backed away from her and she straightened out her dress, just to walk away. Dean couldn't help but feel both awkward and unsatisfied.

Maybe it was a bad idea anyway to hookup with Dior's sister, especially when they still needed her help. He could only hope that Bria wouldn't bring it up, if Dior didn't know already. She was a psychic though, so Dean was probably out of luck on that front.

Dean just let out a sigh and got into the driver's seat. He was plenty sober then. Perfectly fine to to drive. He tried not to notice how much he was actually swerving.

* * *

It was late. He hadn't fully understood the weight of that until he made it back to the hotel room and saw all the lights on, with Sam sitting on the end of the bed. His hands were shaking, even with a beer in his hand. The bassinet was empty. Dean figured she was with Bobby.

And maybe that was a good thing, because Sam looked furious. Dean didn't know what to do with himself as his 6'4" brother stood up and neared him.

"Sam, what's wrong?" Dean asked as he tried to reach for the beer bottle. Sam shoved his hand away, but managed to set it down himself. His eyes were red and glassy like he'd been crying.

"You haven't fucking changed." Sam slurred, "You always run, Dean. Like, like when we were young. You always had to.. go an' look somewhere else." Sam pushed against Dean's chest then, and it made Dean hit the door. His heart was pounding in his chest. He couldn't hear that.

"What are you-"

"_Shut up!_" Sam yelled, his grip tight on Dean's collar. "Do you know how many nights I'd stay up waiting for you, Dean? Kept me waiting, thinking I wasn't enough. There was always going to be more, always something better than me. Was she good at least, De? Did she make you feel good?" Sam kept going, tears pouring down his cheeks.

"Sammy." Dean said, his voice sad and broken. They shouldn't be talking about this. But he should have saw this coming. This was his fault, after all. He broke Sam so badly.

"You still have her lipstick on you. Back then you'd.. you'd at least wash the others away before coming back to me." Sam said as his big hands cradled Dean's cheek. He wiped away whatever was left of the maroon colored lipstick.

Dean didn't know what to say. He knew what he wanted, and that was to kiss Sam. To let him know that he still was the most important thing in his life. He couldn't find the strength to say that. So instead he just pulled Sam in, and let him sob into the crook of his neck like earlier.

When Sam's tears dried though, he didn't walk away. He stood up and looked down at Dean, his hands still on his cheeks.

"It's not your fault." Sam said, seemingly out of nowhere. It made Dean's breath hitch and eyes widen. "It's. Not. Your. Fault." Sam ground out, putting emphasis on each word, like he wanted Dean to understand.

Dean could feel tears start to prickle at his eyes. "Don't.. don't say that. It _is_." Dean tried, but Sam just shook his head.

"Not your fault, De. It's not your fault that I loved you.. _still_ love you. I felt like this way before you kissed me." Sam tried to explain but Dean shut his eyes tight. He couldn't listen to that. He couldn't remember that night. Where Sam had been so young and where Dean gave into his temptations like a monster.

"Dean, look at me. Please."

Dean could never say no to him. He could never pull away when he had to. So he opened his eyes, and looked right up at Sam, at his open and vulnerable expression.

"I'm sorry for getting upset." Sam whispered, "And I'm sorry that dad took me away from you. But I'm here now. I'm _here_." Sam grabbed Dean's hand and placed it on his chest, right against Sam's pounding heart.

"Sam, please. I'm not.. not strong enough." Dean pleaded. Sam had to be the one to pull away. He had to be the one to put a stop to this. Dean had hoped Sam's better judgement would have taken over by then.

But as Sam shook his head, Dean knew that wouldn't be the case. "You don't need to be strong for this." And then Sam leaned down, pressing his lips against Dean's. The older brother gasped into it, his hands finally reaching up to grasp Sam's face.

Sam and Dean came together like a moth to a flame. There was no stopping once it started. Sam was moaning into the kiss already and Dean had no idea what came over him, didn't even have the capacity to care, he was just ripping off Sam's clothes like his life depended it. And maybe it did.

"Dean." Sam moaned once his back hit the mattress. They were both naked, their hands exploring their bodies. "Dean, please. I need you." Sam begged, his voice so pretty like just before.

"I got you, baby." Dean took that opportunity to sit up and grab lube from his bag. If they were doing this, he was determined to make it better than the last time.

Sam smiled up at him. "I know you do, De." He sounded so sweet, so perfect, just like before. Dean kissed Sam hard as he fingered him open, relishing in his sounds. Both too drunk on each other to care how about how loud they were.

"God, Sammy." Dean moaned once he got three fingers in him. He showed no resistance at all to the intrusion. "Open up so good for me." He whispered hotly into the crook of Sam's neck. The younger man bucked his hips up, his nails already digging into Dean's shoulders.

"De, please. I'm ready. I need.. need to feel you. Been too long." Sam practically sobbed. Dean shushed him with a soft kiss, just a he retracted his fingers. He couldn't help but agree with Sam. It had been way too long.

Sam watched attentively as Dean slicked up his cock. Just like their first time, they didn't need anything between them. He pushed Sam's muscular thighs back and pushed inside to the tight heat. Sam's back arched instantly, his grip hard on Dean's broad shoulders.

"That's it, Sammy." Dean groaned as he sunk all the way inside. He tried his best to stay still, to let Sam adjust. It wasn't going to be like last time. He was going to be so much better, just like Sam deserved.

Sam wrapped his long legs around Dean's waist, keeping him nice and secure. Not that Dean was going anywhere. The feeling of it all was too good, too intense.

Even as he looked down and finally noticed faded scars scattered over Sam's hips. Things had been going so fast, he hadn't taken the time to notice them. His thumbs left comforting circles around them.

"S'okay, De." Sam struggled out, "don't.. don't worry about those right now. Just, please, _move_." And so, Dean did just that. He fucked into Sam at a slow pace, watching as Sam's face contorted into true pleasure.

Dean had been with many people. But never had it ever felt like this. Never had it felt so satisfying. This was what he needed, what he always pretended to have. That time, it was real. Sammy was actually the one underneath him.

This thought was what caused his pace to get quicker. Sam's back arched again, his moans getting louder with each obscene smack of skin. Dean took Sam's hands and placed them over his head, consciously ignoring the long scar on his left forearm, just so he could intertwine their fingers.

Dean was even deeper this way, the head of his cock hitting directly against Sam's prostate. Dean could feel his brother's walls spasm around him, and it was all too much. Dean tried his hardest not to come, but it was hard with the way Sam was looking up at him.

"Dean, please. Can I please come?" Sam asked, his tone so needy. Dean could hardly believe it. He hadn't expected Sam to ask that again, he hadn't expected it to still be one of the hottest things in the world.

Dean wrapped a hand around Sam's red tipped cock, "Come for me, baby boy." Dean made sure he was fucking into Sam at the same pace, made sure it matched the work he was doing on his length.

"Dean, Dean, _Dean_," Sam chanted as he came, his spunk covering his chest. Dean couldn't hold back anymore, not after that. He gripped at the back of Sam's thighs and fucked into him, hard. He watched as his brother's eyes rolled back from the overstimulation, one hand in a weak grip around the amulet while the other gripped the sheets.

"G-God, De, please. Want you-want you to come." Sam moaned out, his tone so breathy and broken that it sent a shiver down Dean's spine. There was no more holding back.

He was right at the edge, and then he was falling, falling into all that was Sam Winchester. He was kissing him as Dean finished out his orgasm, sweet and slow. He only stopped to let out a low grunt as Dean slowly slid out of his wet heat.

They knew they were gross, that they surely needed a shower. But Dean couldn't find it in him to move. Not when Sam was finally beside him again.

His baby brother nuzzled into his chest, despite being bigger than him. Dean smiled fondly as he pulled the duvet over their naked bodies. Sam's breathing started to even out, like he was close to falling asleep.

"I love you, Sammy." Dean whispered, just as he was finally letting sleep take over. He hadn't felt that warm in years, and he only hoped that it would still feel that way in the morning.

* * *

**Author's Note: So, the boys have given into their temptations.. for now, that is.**


	6. Chapter Four

Sam couldn't believe what he had done.

It wasn't his intention. In fact, he had made it clear to himself that he wasn't going to give in.

But as he stood in the shower the next morning and washed away Dean's dried come, he'd known he'd done a bad job of that.

Things had been _fine_. Sam was okay with Dean driving away. All he wanted was to see Mary. And he got just that, and as he took her into his arms, he began to get a sharp pain at the base of his skull.

"Sam?" Bobby had called out. He was trying to keep Sam steady, but all Sam felt like doing was puking.

And then he saw it. He saw Dean pressing a girl up to the Impala. Sam couldn't see her face, just that they were really going at it right on the sidewalk.

Sam had forced himself back to the present with a sharp gasp. Bobby had looked him over and decided that he'd keep tending to Mary until Sam had felt better.

And while Sam wanted to protest, he could feel the familiar rage and jealousy start to take over. He figured it was best that Mary wasn't around to see that.

But he still hadn't expected to kiss Dean like that. Sam blamed it on the alcohol. It clouded his judgement. In hindsight, maybe drinking wasn't the best idea.

And then the way he had talked to Dean, reassuring him that he was going to be there for him; it left a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach. Maybe that was how he truly felt deep inside. And with how hopeful Dean had looked, Sam figured that it was probably that way for him, too.

Then the sex. Sam had been so needy for it, too. He was begging for it like his life depended on it. Sam pressed his forehead against the cold tile and just let the warm water flow down the expanse of his back. He couldn't help but feel ashamed of how weak he was.

Sam could still feel Dean's hands on his body. They were so warm and welcoming, just like before. The way Dean said his name was too beautiful. The way the amulet felt in his fist as Dean fucked into him was like heaven.

Sam shook his head, willfully ignoring the erection that line of thought sent him. He finished up the shower and dried off. He made quick work getting dressed and tried to just leave so he could go down the hall to check on Mary, but that wasn't where his feet led him.

He was standing beside the bed where Dean was still sleeping soundly. Dean looked so beautiful like that, like he was at peace. Sam couldn't help it, his fingers trailed over his freckles. He wanted to kiss them. He wanted to kiss Dean.

And because his luck had never been the best, Dean's eyes fluttered open at that exact moment. Sam movements faltered. He retracted his hand and let it fall to his side.

"Sam-" Dean tried, but the younger Winchester was quick to cut him off. He wasn't ready to talk about the night before.

"I'm gonna go check on Mary."

He was out the door before Dean could even respond. He quickly made his way down the hall and knocked lightly, just in case she was still sleeping.

Bobby looked utterly exhausted when he eventually opened the door, and Sam couldn't help but feel bad about that.

"I'm sorry, Bobby." Sam said as he made his way inside. The older man just waved him off.

"Don't worry about it." Bobby let out, his voice still gruff from sleep. "She was up for a few hours. Guess she wanted you. Gave her a little whiskey though. It put her right to sleep."

Sam's head shot up at that and he couldn't help but roll his eyes at Bobby's laugh. "Funny," Sam said dryly. He made his way to Mary then, who was curled up in the middle of the queen sized bed surrounded by a wall of pillows. He leaned over it and ran his hand across her curls.

Her brown eyes opened and as soon as she saw Sam, her arms shot up and she started making grabbing motions with her little hands. Sam wasted no time picking her up.

"Good morning, princess. How are you?" Sam asked playfully. She gave him an opened mouthed smile as she grabbed at his hair.

"While you hold her, I'll make a bottle." Bobby didn't give Sam any time to protest it, he was already off doing that. Sam shook his head, a fond smile playing at his lips.

He was starting to feel better. All he really needed was Mary. And he would have preferred to have that feeling for a few hours, but as soon as Bobby came around with the bottle, he knew that wouldn't be the case.

"Hey, Sam.. do you think you could ask Dean how John is doin'?" It took him off guard to say the least. Sam hadn't really thought about his dad extensively since Bobby told him about John having a new family. Sam hated to admit it, but it had been too painful to think about.

"I mean, you could just ask Dean yourself." Sam almost hated how defensive he sounded. But he couldn't deny how irritated it made him that Bobby was just acting like Dean wasn't there most of the time.

Bobby sighed. "You're probably right." He looked down at the floor then, his hand scrubbing over his scalp. "I just wish things were different. Wish I was there for him when.." Bobby trailed off, like he hadn't meant to say it out loud. Not to Sam anyway.

"I know, Bobby." Sam sighed as he set Mary down. She sat up and leaned against her father as she drank down her formula, completely nonplussed by their conversation.

"You can be there for him now." Sam said carefully. And then the statement brought him back to the night before. Sam had said something similar.

"...We both can be." Sam added after a moment of silence between the two of them. Bobby only nodded in response, but Sam could tell he was thinking hard about it. He knew that Bobby would do the right thing this time though.

When Mary finished up her bottle, Sam took it upon himself to pack up her diaper bag. He managed to explain to Bobby what happened with Dior the day before, and how he was having visions. He pointedly didn't to go into detail about them though. Bobby knew not to push the subject.

When Sam felt like the older hunter had been properly updated, he put the diaper bag over his shoulder and held Mary close as they walked down the hall.

Dean was showered and fully dressed when he walked in. He was talking on the phone. And from what Sam could hear, it was with Dior.

"Okay. And that's going to be tonight? At eight?" Dean was pacing in front of the window as he spoke, barely paying Sam any mind. Maybe he was doing that on purpose.

"...why only Sam?"

The sound of his name made him listen even harder to what was being said. It was hard though with Mary starting to get fussy. Sam sighed and set her down on the carpeted floor. She immediately started crawling across the room, right in Dean's direction.

"I.. I guess that makes sense. I'll let him know. Thanks. Bye." Just as Dean slid his phone in his back pocket, Mary had made it over to him. She held on to his jeans and tried her best to stand on two shaky legs.

"Uh, Sam. What do I do?" Dean asked, his arms outstretched awkwardly. Sam had never seen his older brother look so nervous before.

Sam could help but smile at him. "Try picking her up." He suggested. Sam took a step closer just to be safe. Dean looked from her to Sam, his expression unsure.

"I-I don't know, Sam. It's been a long time since I've held a baby." Dean stammered. Sam shook his head at him.

"You got this, De." That, for whatever reason, solidified Dean's resolve. He bent down slowly and gently placed his hands under her arms. She giggled sweetly as she was brought up to his level.

Dean was holding her to to his chest and she was playing with his beard, tugging slightly. "Wow! The grip on you!" Dean joked. She smiled at him like she knew him well, and that served to warm Sam's heart.

Somehow, seeing Dean hold his daughter like that, only made Sam fall in love with him even more. And that scared him. He was terrified of loving Dean again-not that he ever really stopped to begin with.

Dean was watching Sam, his face shy and unsure. Sam couldn't help but walk over to him, his hand shaking slightly as it reached up to touch his older brother's face.

Dean leaned into the touch and let his eyes flutter closed. It left him open and vulnerable. He trusted Sam enough to be that way. The thought made Sam's heart pound in his chest.

"I'm scared, Dean." Sam admitted in a whisper. Dean opened his eyes then, a look of understanding etched to his features.

"Me too, Sammy." Dean whispered back, the situation all too delicate. He looked like he wanted to say more, but Dean was never that good at communication. Neither was Sam for that matter. Especially not with a baby in their presence.

Sam let his hand fall, but stayed close enough. Dean didn't let go of Mary as he spoke about the conversation he had with Dior.

"Dior said she set up a meeting with someone who's been through this, too. He apparently knows more than she does." He said, his tone full of disbelief. "How does someone know more than a damn physic anyway?" Dean asked with a weak chuckle.

Mary laughed too, like she was mimicking Dean. He gave her a warm smile and held her just a little closer. "Maybe this whole uncle thing is growing on me." Sam couldn't help but feel relieved by that.

"Oh! I almost forgot." Dean said as he gently handed Mary over to Sam. "Dior said that the guy only wants to meet with you. Said he knows you, but wouldn't say how."

Dean leaned against the table behind him and pursed his lips. He looked like he was in deep contemplation. "I don't like that. It could be dangerous." He said as Sam moved around to grab Mary a toy to play with.

Sam had no idea who the person could be. He didn't feel worried, but he also couldn't deny how nice it felt to have Dean worry about him.

"I'm a big boy now, Dean. I can take care of myself." Sam said, but there was no heat to it. It sounded a little too fond for Sam's liking. But it made Dean blush, so maybe the young Winchester did like it.

"I don't doubt it, Sammy." Dean neared him then, and at just a close enough distance, he pulled out his pistol that he kept safely tucked in the back of his jeans.

"Do you still remember how to use this?"

Sam eyed the gun. Truthfully, it'd been a long time since he'd even held one. After Bobby took him in, there was no more hunting for either of them. Sam didn't need to use a gun anymore. But he figured it had to be ingrained into his memory

"Guess it wouldn't hurt to find time to train. If you're up for it, I mean." Sam suggested shyly. Dean smiled at him, his eyes moving between Sam's eyes to his lips. Sam could feel himself start to get nervous. He wasn't sure if he could handle a kiss right then.

It seemed Dean was feeling the same way as he settled on Sam's eyes, his smile still just as warm despite both of their combined fear.

"Anytime, Sammy."

* * *

Hours later, Sam and Dean made it to the meeting point. Bobby had Mary back at the hotel, and even though Sam felt bad for putting him on babysitting duty again, the older man let him know that was what he was there for.

The meeting point was at a diner on the outskirts of the city. Near a swamp, actually. Sam didn't like that at all.

"Are you sure about this, Sam?" Dean asked as they looked over the practically empty building. It wasn't busy at all. Sam blamed it on being a week night.

He looked over at his big brother and gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm sure, De. Don't worry." Sam had figured that would have been enough so he moved to open the door, but stopped once Dean grabbed his hand.

"I'm always going to worry, Sammy. No matter how tall you are or how old you get, I'll always worry." His grip tightened around Sam's hand. Dean's words made a chill run up Sam's spine, like a whisper telling him something bad was going to happen. He tried to shake it off because knew that getting information was the most important thing, no matter what.

"Dean.. there's no reason to be intense about this. I'll be okay." Sam tried, but Dean did not look convinced. Sam couldn't actually blame him.

"Okay.." Sam sighed, "if I'm not out in twenty minutes, come in and check on me." He watched Dean's face as it released a little bit of that intensity. Dean eventually nodded and let his thumb brush gently across his hand.

Everything in Sam wanted to let Dean know that he loved him, but he didn't know how to express that sober anymore. "I'll buy you some pie." Sam said instead. It at least made his brother's eyes light up, so that was worth it.

Sam finally got out of the car then and made his way into the small diner. There was a booth in the front that was occupied by a man reading a newspaper and at the counter there was a woman going off about politics to one of the cooks. It wasn't until his eyes reached the back of the building did he see someone he actually recognized.

"..Miles?" Sam called out once he reached the very last booth. Shyly, an older version of Miles looked up at him. He was still so handsome, just a little grey at the top and in his beard. He was dressed in a suit, a far cry from the football jersey he'd been wearing during that party.

"Hey, Sam. Take a seat." Miles said as he took a long sip of his coffee. "You.. you look good." He gave as Sam sat down. The younger man couldn't help but smile at him, despite his better judgment.

"Thanks. You're looking pretty good yourself." Sam decided his words sounded a little too much like flirting, and Miles' blush only confirmed that.

"Anyway... What do you know about all this?" Sam asked, and he couldn't help but watch as Miles' fingers shook around the glass.

Miles looked around the room before whispering, "I don't know how else to explain this. I.. I was adopted, and I didn't know until my adoptive parents died. After that, I..." Miles trailed off as he lifted his hand above the coffee cup.

It started _floating_.

"...and this started happening." Miles whispered as he set the glass down. "After a month of panic attacks, I decided to look into my past." He gave another cautious look around the room before continuing.

"My birth mom died in a fire." He looked at Sam as he said this, like he wanted him to understand. And Sam did. He understood all too well. "I started having dreams, Sam."

Sam understood that, too.

"Over time, I learned why people like us have these abilities." Miles explained, his eyes low. Sam leaned in close, he needed to know this.

"When.. when the demon comes, he.." Miles sucked in a deep breath, "He feeds us, the babies, demon blood. _His_ blood. He's.. he's trying to make an army, Sam."

Sam's own blood ran cold at that. His mind couldn't stop rotating around that one thing. Demon blood. He has demon blood in him. Sam had it for most of his life. He was brought back to being eleven and always feeling like whatever happened to their mom had been his fault.

He couldn't deny it anymore.

"...There's one more thing, Sam." Miles' voice was shaking as he spoke. It caused Sam to look up, concern laced in his tired eyes.

"The thing that makes you and me different..." Miles tilted his head, but kept his eyes on Sam, despite the tears welling up in them.

"Is that he didn't have to feed me his blood. I already had it." Tears fell as he said this. Sam looked him over, another chill running down his spine.

"What are you talking about?" Sam demanded. He couldn't help but feel bad about the hateful tone in his voice. He shouldn't be speaking that way to someone crying to him.

Miles looked up at him, his eyes wet and glassy as they flashed a bright yellow. "The demon is my father. I'm a half demon, Sam."

Sam shut his eyes and took in a deep breath. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Miles was the son of the demon that destroyed his family twice.

"I can understand if you want to kill me." Miles said after a few minutes of silence. Sam shook his head. He didn't feel that way. At least.. not much. It wasn't like Miles asked to be born. This was what Sam tried to rationalize, anyway.

"I don't want to-" Sam's sentence died in his throat as the lights flickered around them. Several cold chills ran down the expanse of Sam's body.

"Oh, fuck. No. This-Sam, I didn't, I swear!" Miles explained as he rose from the table. Sam tried to get up, he truly did, but it felt as though his body was glued to the seat.

The lights flashed again and again until there was nothing but darkness and the echoes of bodies dropping to the floor.


	7. Chapter Five

Dean didn't like seeing Sam be so distant the morning after the night they shared. It was strange, waking up to Sam touching his face like that. It made Dean feel loved. And then Sam pulled away, and Dean didn't know what to do with himself.

After that, it felt as though they were walking on eggshells. He chose not to chase after him, mostly because he was still naked. Instead he showered and got dressed, the whole time trying to figure out a way not to love Sam so much. So it would hurt less in inevitable the end.

But then Sam returned just as Dean was finishing up a phone conversation with Dior. He let Dean hold Mary for the first time. It had been scary at first, what with her being so small, but he quickly realized that it wasn't so bad. Mary's smile made Dean's heart swell with joy, and he realized in that exact moment he'd do anything to protect her.

He wondered if Sam noticed that, because Sam had neared him and gently touched his face just like earlier. That time though, he kept the touch there. It made Dean's fears dissipate, if only slightly.

Sam had admitted that he was scared; Scared of falling back into whatever they had before. Dean agreed. It really was a scary concept. He was petrified of screwing it all up again. But the thing he knew for sure was, he would only be happy with Sam around.

Dean didn't want to go back into that dark place that he'd been stuck in for two decades. And if that meant taking things slow for Sam's benefit, he could absolutely do that. And honestly, it was probably for his own benefit, too.

They never did go and practice shooting. Instead, they spent the day with Mary, which had been rewarding in its own right. Time felt like it went a little too fast thought as it neared eight, the time they were supposed to meet whoever the hell Sam was supposed to meet with.

Dean didn't like the thought of Sam going in alone. Not when he just got him back. Anything could go wrong and all it would take was a second. The thought left him nauseated.

Sam had been reassuring enough. Maybe Dean was being a little crazy about it after all. And the promise of pie was almost too good to pass up. He tried to believe that it was going to be okay.

Sam had said to wait twenty minutes. Dean took that to heart. His eyes kept flicking between the clock on his phone and the window of the diner. His nerves chipped away as the minutes past. And just as the last minute came and gone, the lights in the diner started to flicker violently.

Dean could feel it in his bones that something was wrong. He slid his phone into his jacket pocket as he got out of the car and rushed inside.

The lights on the ceiling were still flickering, sparks flying from the broken fixtures. The patrons at the front of the store were on the ground, all dead. Same with the cook in the back. There was a waitress in the middle of the walkway, blood leaking from her open mouth, eyes rolled back. She couldn't have been over eighteen.

"S-Sam?" Dean called out shakily as he stepped over the poor girl's mangled form. Sam was a big man, he would have been easy to see if... Dean couldn't let himself finish the thought. Instead, he searched under each booth, in the kitchen, and even the bathroom. His last resort was running out the back door.

"Sam?!" He screamed out, his lungs burning, his heart pounding in his chest. His hands were shaking as he reached for his phone. He called Sam's number in the hopes that he would answer. Dean knew somehow that wouldn't be the case.

Especially since Dean could hear Sam's phone ringing from nearby. Dean found it in a bush, his own name flashing over the screen. He let out a ragged sob but pulled himself together right after. He couldn't let him fall apart, not yet.

Dean needed to find his Sammy first.

* * *

Dean was speeding down the road as he used Sam's phone to call Bobby. The man picked up sounding absolutely exhausted, "Sam? Sam, I don't know what happened. She just started screaming and I-" Sure enough, Mary started wailing even louder in the background.

"It's Dean, Bobby. Sam is gone and I need your help." That seemed to get the older man going in seconds. He met Bobby at the entrance of the hotel, holding a tightly swaddled Mary. She was almost too big for that but it was cold outside and they weren't taking chances, despite being in a rush to leave.

They strapped Mary into the Impala and sped all the way to Madam Dior's shop. Before they could even knock on the door, though Dean's first thought was to kick it down, Bria opened the door, her face cut and bleeding.

"What the fuck did you do?" She sobbed out as her weak body fell against the door. Dean supported her as they all walked inside. Their furniture was torn apart, books everywhere, blood spattered on the walls.

Gently, Dean set her down onto Dior's desk chair. Bobby was close behind with Mary.

"What happened?" Dean asked, his tone calm despite the fact he wanted to blame Dior for putting them in this mess. He couldn't find it in him to do that, not when Bria let out another broken sob.

"She was.. we were.. fuck." Bria cursed as she angrily wiped her tears away. "We were just talking. She was telling me about what really happened to our mother. It was this really emotional thing. And for the first time in years, it really felt like her and I were connecting. Truly connecting. But then..." Bria trailed off and took in a deep breath. Her fingers followed the cut along her cheek.

"There were at least three demons. They tried to kill me to get to Dior. She... she wouldn't let them. Dior just..." Bria shook her head, like she couldn't believe what she was saying, "She killed two. I don't know how. She just raised her hand and they... they evaporated."

Dean took it all in. He let his thoughts fall together as he went to grab a first aid kit from the Bouderaux's bathroom. He cleaned her wounds as Bobby tended to a still upset Mary in the other room.

"The third demon. It took Dior?" Dean asked as he finished up and tossed the bloody napkin onto Dior's desk. He leaned against it as she nodded solemnly.

"I'm going to go ahead and assume that the same thing happened to your brother?" She said it like a question, but Dean could tell she knew the answer. Dean gave her a curt nod, his knuckles turning white at the tight grip he had on the edge of the desk.

He was angry at himself for letting Sam go in alone. More than that, he was angry for entertaining Sam's plan to go after the yellow eyed demon. Dean should have nipped it right in the bud, reminded Sam that it wasn't worth it. They had to witness what their father had to go through, just to get nowhere. Eventually even John gave up.

Dean cringed inwardly at the thought of his father. He didn't want to think about him, not right then. His first priority was Sam and getting him back.

"Okay, we need to get this ball rollin' and now." Bobby said, his tone gruff. He handed a sleeping Mary over to Dean as he rummaged through Dior's scattered books.

"What are you looking for?" Bria asked, her voice tired. Bobby kept on looking through the torn pages as he replied that he need to see a book of spells. She looked as though she knew exactly what he was talking about as she pulled a set of keys from her pocket.

"She keeps those in here. Where it's safe." She mumbled as unlocked the bottom drawer. Bria pulled out two thick books, both visibly old, the spines staring to crumble.

Bobby took to them almost immediately. "You lookin' for a tracking spell?" Dean asked quietly as to not wake Mary. Bobby actually looked up then, his eyes starting to soften.

"I'm gonna get him back, Dean." Bobby said it like a promise, and it almost took the younger man off guard.

"We both will." Dean had said, his words lined with determination. The moment was way too tender, something both men couldn't stand. _No chick-flick moments,_ his brain automatically said.

They worked in silence after that. Bria helped Bobby find the ingredients he needed as Dean sat with Mary. It was weird being the one having to do that, but he couldn't deny that she brought him comfort.

It took hours; all night and all afternoon the next day, but the spell was finally ready. Mary had long woken up from her slumber and she was crying almost nonstop, like she could tell her father wasn't around.

Dean was the least qualified to take care of a baby, but all he really had to do was hum his mother's favorite song, just like she'd do for Dean when he was young, and she would calm down for at least half an hour. It gave Bobby enough time to set it all up.

"Now, the last thing we need is something of Sam's." Bobby sighed. He looked up at Dean then, like Dean would have something. The younger man nodded and thought back to what he might have on him that belonged to Sam.

The only thing he did have was Sam's cell phone. He pulled it from his back pocket and almost immediately, Bria shook her head and said, "I may not be a professional, but I have a feeling that a spell like this calls for something stronger than a phone."

"I think she's right. Our best bet is his DNA, or something close to it." Bobby motioned towards Dean and Mary.

Dean looked over Mary's curious little face and sighed. He had to do this himself, there was no question about it. Dean sat her down in a cleaned part of the room and gave Mary her favorite toy.

Bobby handed Dean a sharp blade and Dean took in a deep breath as he raised his hand over the wooden bowl. He made a swift cut over his palm and let it drip over the contents. Gently, Bobby got him out of the way so he could finish the incantation.

Dean took to the first aid kit and wrapped his hand as Bobby mumbled things in an ancient language. Mary kept tugging at his jeans, a panicked look in her brown eyes. She was starting up her crying again.

"_Balls_... It's not working." Bobby sighed just as Dean was about to pick her up. Dean whipped his head around, his eyes wide. The thing Bobby had been working on was supposed to work as a road map to Sam, but the only thing Dean could see was black nothingness.

"What the hell do you mean, Bobby?" Dean asked as he unconsciously dug his thumb into the cut on his hand. Bria has stood up from her seat and slammed her hands on the desk.

"I need to find my sister, goddamnit." She exclaimed, and just as Bobby was about to explain, Mary screamed at the top of her lungs. Dean let out on an exasperated sigh as he picked her up. One look into her eyes left Dean frozen, deep and endless, like they had a story to tell.

Her little hand rested on his bearded cheek and Dean's world went dark. Then it all came in deep flashes; an old house, white and crumbling. A swamp and a thick forest, all hiding the big house. Then Dean could see scattered little wooden sheds, all broken and dusty.

Light slipped through a dirty window, illuminating the face of the man Dean loved. Sam was passed out on the floor, but just as he opened his hazel eyes, the vision had ended. All too abruptly.

Dean let out a sharp, almost painful gasp as he was brought back to the present. Mary looked utterly exhausted in his arms as she slumped down against his shoulder.

"Dean, are you okay? What happened?" Bobby asked with a gentle hand on the younger man's back. Dean took in deep breaths to calm his nerves, and then he finally looked over at Bobby.

"I think I know where Sam is."

* * *

**Author's Note: I had to rewrite over half of this because my phone decided to delete some of it. I am in desperate need for a laptop lol.**

**I'm sorry for any typos or grammar mistakes. My brain is fried from work and having to rewrite this. I hope you enjoyed this anyway!**


	8. Chapter Six

**Warnings: chapter contains graphic violence.**

* * *

Sam's body ached even before his eyes opened. He could vaguely remember a flash of yellow eyes, and then darkness. Never ending darkness that flooded over him, entrapped him. The only thing that beckoned his eyes to open was a bright light. For a moment, Sam thought it could have been heaven.

His blurry vision cleared and at first, all he could see was dust flittering around the ray of sunshine coming through the boarded window. Sam groaned as he forced himself to sit up.

Sam was just in a diner with Miles. And then Miles had told Sam that the yellow eyed demon was making an army. That was why he was doing this to babies. But then Miles had said... he said that he was the demon's son.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. Sam truly couldn't bring himself to care about that last bit. The only thing ringing around in his head was his own blood, infected with that of a demon's. Since he finally knew it was there, he could practically feel it flowing in his veins.

Sam shook his head and stood up, willfully ignoring the creaking in his joints. He dug his hands into his jacket pockets and then his jeans, but found nothing. His phone was nowhere to be found.

"Fantastic." Sam whispered to himself, his tone dry and sarcastic. His hand went for the door, but it wouldn't budge. Sam really wasn't in the mood for that. He leaned against the wood for a few seconds and just collected his thoughts and for whatever reason, the image of Dean holding Mary popped into his head.

It reminded him of what he had to fight for.

He kicked the door down and was immediately greeted with the earthy smell of grass and bog water. That and an unforgiving early morning chill. Sam could even see his breath as he made cautious steps around the perimeter. Sam could see a house in the distance, an old plantation style home.

But just as he was about to make his way over to it, he could hear shouts coming from another wooden shed. He cursed under his breath as he rushed over to it. High pitched screams cut through the thin wood, begging for help.

"Hey, it's okay. Just back up and I'll kick the door down." Sam listened as the sobs got farther away, signaling that they had done as they were told. Sam took in a deep breath before kicking the door out of the way.

Sam didn't have enough time to even think about how sore his leg was before the girl jumped him. All he could really do was blink up at her stupidly, her small hands wrapped around his throat.

"Who are you and why did you take me here?" She demanded. Sam raised his hands in an 'I surrender' motion and tried his best to shake his head.

"I didn't take you here. I was brought here, same as you. I swear." Sam gasped. She took a moment to look him over and eventually stood up and wrapped her arms around her small form.

With a grunt, Sam stood up and towered over her by a foot. She looked so young and terrified that Sam couldn't find it in him to be irritated about the attack. It didn't help that she was shivering. The poor thing was just in pajamas.

"Here." Sam sighed as he took his jacket off and handed it to her. She eyed it suspiciously before taking it and putting it on. It was huge on her but Sam could tell it brought her comfort.

"My name is Sam by the way."

She put her dyed blue hair behind her ear and looked away, almost shyly. "My name is Su-Jin." She looked around, lip quivering as she asked, "W-where are we? There... there are so many..." The last part was mumbled, Sam barely caught it. It seemed like he wasn't supposed to hear it anyway.

"From the looks of it, this was a slave plantation." He said, his arms instinctively wrapping around himself as a harsh cold breeze brushed over him. Su-Jin had no clue as she looked around, eyes wide and scared.

"That makes sense..." She shut her eyes and took in a deep breath, "H-how do we get out of here?" She asked, her gaze on the ground and nothing else. Sam gave her a sympathetic smile and patted her shoulder gently, mostly to get her attention.

Sam pointed towards the house, "Let's check that out. It might lead us to a driveway and hopefully a road out of here." She could only muster a weak nod as she followed behind Sam.

They had just made it to the front of the house when the doors blasted open. Sam held the girl behind him as wood shards flew through the air, along with a bent, broken body.

"What was that-" Su-Jin tried, but the words died in her throat as a black eyed Dior stepped onto the porch, hand raised and blood dripping from her nose. When the body on the ground stopped its twitching, her eyes changed back to its natural brown.

They all stood in silence for a few moments as Sam stared up at her in pure disbelief as she wiped the blood away.

"Took you long enough to wake up." Dior ground out as she turned back into the house. Sam cursed under his breath and chased after her, Su-Jin following close behind.

"What the hell was that?" Sam demanded once they reached the foyer. "Your eyes. They looked... Dior, you looked like a demon. What's going on?" He asked, his tone softer that time.

She was hesitant at first, but finally decided to look up at him, guilt shimmering in the pools of brown. "It's not something I'm proud of, okay? I just... I used to drink demon blood to make myself feel more in control of my life. I stopped years ago, but everything about my mom just... it made me relapse. But it's _helping_, Sam. For now at least."

All Sam could do was look at her, pure astonishment plain on his face. It was one thing to have it forced on you as a baby, or to even be born with it, but actually choosing to ingest it? Sam could barely wrap his head around it.

"Don't judge me, Samuel. Please." Dior sighed, "Save it for later if you have to. We have more important things to worry about." She turned away from him and walked into the main room.

"What the hell is happening right now..." Su-Jin mumbled to herself as she followed Sam into the living room. Sam was going to turn around and try to explain everything to her, but the presence of other people stopped words from forming.

In one corner there was a man who had to be around Sam's age, if not younger. He was attractive, dark skinned, and wearing a military uniform. On the other side, surprisingly, was Miles. He was sitting on the ground with his knees to his chest, looking completely dejected.

"He's been like that the entire time." Dior said with a long sigh. "I've been having to fight these assholes off on my own. Well... mostly." She added and the man in uniform actually cracked a smile.

"I got a few good licks in. Though I have to admit I'm out of my element. It's a little different from my usual combat." He said, and then he looked up at the Winchester, "So, you're Sam? The same guy this dude keeps mumbling on about?" Just as he said this, Miles looked up at them, eyes big and wet with tears.

Sam took in a deep breath and made his way over to the man. He knelt down to eye level and slowly placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Miles? What happened?" Sam asked, his tone soft. Miles wiped his eyes and shook his head, mumbling out jumbled apologies.

"Didn't mean to. Didn't know that... that they'd follow me. Thought I... thought I was covering my tracks. Sorry, Sam." He sobbed out. Sam couldn't help but pity him.

"Hey, no. It's okay. You didn't know." Sam said as he patted his back, "but now you have to get a hold of yourself. We have to get out of here, and to do that, we'll need your help." Sam helped him up then and worked to straighten out the other man's jacket.

"Sam, there's no-"

Before Miles could finish his sentence, Su-Jin let out a high pitched scream and gripped at Sam's arm. She was shaking and before Sam could ask what was wrong, Dior was pushed back into a wall by an invisible force.

"What the hell-" the uniformed man called out as he ran over to her. Sam looked around frantically, trying his best to find whatever was causing them harm but he could see nothing.

"T-there... it's—Sam, it's _there_!" Su-Jin called out, her finger pointing towards the archway. Quickly, Sam grabbed a rusted iron fire-poker from beside the fireplace and jabbed into the spot she was pointing. An earth shattering screech filled the old house as a shadowy image appeared and then disappeared right in front of them.

"It's a spirit." Sam breathed, "You can see spirits." He said towards the girl. She could only muster a small nod as she held onto Sam for dear life.

"It's gone now. Y-you scared it." She stuttered. "I didn't know they could just... _attack_ like that." She retracted her grip off Sam and closed in on herself again. Sam looked her over at her, a deep frown on his face. Su-Jin couldn't have been over sixteen and obviously knew next to nothing about her power. Sam could tell that all she wanted was to go home.

Sam couldn't understand why the yellow eyed demon was doing this. If he had his armies split into ages, why drop off a teenager? Sam could hardly wrap his head around it. All he really knew for sure was that he felt protective over her. He would make sure she got home safely, no matter what.

"Jake, I'm fine. I promise. I'm a strong woman." Dior grumbled halfheartedly. Sam turned and saw as Jake gave a strained smile down at her and shook his head. He helped her up and she dusted herself off, willfully ignoring the blood coming from her scalp.

"That was a good catch, kid. Your gift will prove useful while we find a way to get out of here." Dior said to Su-Jin, her smile warm. Su-Jin looked up at her and could only blush and nod shyly.

Miles groaned and pulled at his curls. "There's no way out, guys! We're stuck. My _dad_ has made sure of that." His tone was thick with malice as he glared into the air.

"Miles, calm down. We will find a way, I promise-" Sam tried as he reached out to touch him, but Miles shoved him away, his half demon strength pushing Sam back a few inches. The action made Sam's words die in his throat. Miles could only shake his head as he turned and ran away.

Sam stared owlishly at the spot Miles was just in and didn't even react when Dior's hand landed on his shoulder. "Leave him be. He was only going to slow us down anyway."

Sam let out a breath that he hadn't even realized he was holding. He knew she was right. Though it didn't feel right, they finally left the house, in the hopes that they'd find a way out of what seemed to be the yellow eyed demon's playground.

* * *

Sam hated to admit it, but as the group walked down the overgrown driveway, Miles seemed to have a point. It felt like the forest went on for miles until they met the edge of the swamp.

"We're surrounded by water. We're gonna need a boat." Dior sighed into her hands. "And where the hell are we going to find a boat? It's already getting dark..." She murmured to herself as she began to pace around.

"Sam, are we stuck? Like that man said?" Su-Jin asked, her voice quivering like she was cold. Sam looked down at her and tried to give a sympathetic smile, but he knew she could see right through it.

"For now, Su. I'll get you out of here though, don't worry. 'Bet your family misses you." Sam said quietly, his tone sincere.

The blue haired girl gave a weak chuckle and shook her head. "Don't really have a family. Just a shitty little room in a group home. It's... not much, but still better than dying at the stupidly young age of fifteen."

Sam wanted to ask more questions, just to make sure she was really okay, but he had no time to actually do that as two demons popped up in front of the group.

"Where do y'all think you're goin'?" The bigger demon asked, his vessel's accent thick. He twirled around a big axe in his meaty hands. The other was silent and ready to attack. Dior let out a deep breath and held her hand out, her eyes going black.

The demon with the big mouth looked as though he hadn't saw that coming as he turned into nothing but black dust. Dior groaned weakly as her head fell into her hands, blood dripping from her nose.

The smaller demon let out an outraged yell as she came at Dior at full force, knocking the tall woman to the ground. Jake and Sam moved quickly to pull the demon off of her, but the thing was too strong. The small demon pushed them both back with a wave of her dainty hand, and swiftly went back to choking Dior.

"We have to help her!" Jake shouted as he looked around, searching for anything that might just help. And then Sam saw it, the axe that the last demon was holding onto.

"There, Jake! The axe." Sam yelled as he pointed over to the pile of dust. Jake moved quickly, without a moment of hesitation. He picked up the heavy piece of equipment with no struggle whatsoever, and just as easily was able to swing it and cut the demon's head clean off.

Dior gasped as her airways were freed from the demon's grasp. Sam and Jake went to her almost immediately, Jake pulling her up into his arms as they checked her throat. It was already badly bruised, but they hoped there was no further damage that they couldn't see.

"You okay? You're okay, right?" Jake asked in a frantic breath. She gave him a weak smile and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah," She croaked. Seconds later, her smile faded, and was replaced by an expression of pure dread. "Where's... Su...Jin?" She struggled out. Sam whipped his head around and there she was, her small frame being held by another demon that they hadn't seen before. He had a gun pointed right at the girl's temple.

Su-Jin was sobbing, begging to be let go. Sam got up, his movements slow. "Just let her go. She's no threat to you." Sam tried, his hands in the air to show that he had no weapons. He took a single step and the demon shook his head.

"Those demons you killed? They were my friends." He said matter of factly. "They were just doing what they were told and you lot killed them." He dug the barrel of the gun even deeper into the girl's skin despite her screaming.

"We were just defending ourselves. And this girl? She wasn't even part of the fight. She has nothing to do with this." Sam was close to pleading. He couldn't let anyone else die, not because of him. Not again.

The demon chuckled, nonplussed by Sam's logic. "Maybe this will serve as a lesson for you then."

Sam saw it flash over the girl's eyes, like she knew what was about to happen. Not even that could have prepared him for what happened next. The demon pulled the trigger and then he was gone. All that was left was Su-Jin's lifeless body as it hit the cold ground.

"What the fuck." Jake breathed out somewhere in the background as Sam fell to his knees next to her body. "It... it actually shot her." For the first time all day, Jake showed true fear.

Sam let out a ragged breath as he looked over her, from her expressionless eyes to her blue hair stained red with her own blood. His hands shook as they moved to shut her eyes.

It took almost an hour, but Sam and Jake both took turns carrying her body back to the plantation. None of them said a word as they laid her down onto the ratty old couch. Their stomachs growled with hunger but all they could do was sit there and ponder on what they were going to do next.

The possibility of them all dying was suddenly all too real. And the proof of that was laying in front of them.

"Are you okay?" Dior asked Sam, her voice still hoarse. Sam scrubbed a hand over his face and leaned against the wall behind them. "I guess that was a stupid question. I'm sorry."

Sam didn't know how to respond to that. He didn't know exactly how to respond to any of it. His brain was fried and all he truly wanted was to see his family again. To hold Mary close, to protect her.

He also wanted Dean. He wanted to hold him and never let go, to kiss him deeply, to love him unconditionally just like he always wanted. Sam didn't know if he would live long enough to do any of it.

"It wasn't your fault." She said, her tone sincere. Sam could only muster a weak smile in response, but it was obvious he didn't believe it.

He was never good at helping people. That was something Dean and John were best at. Somehow Sam would always get it wrong, always mess things up.

Sam couldn't help but think it had something to do with the demon blood. That it somehow changed him as a person. That somehow it made him more predisposed to evil.

"Dior, do you think-" Before Sam could finish his question, she gripped at his shoulder, her brown eyes wide.

He looked her over quizzically and watched as her shocked expression turned into one of pure joy.

"Bria." She breathed out happily, her eyes filling with tears. Jake came barreling in seconds later, his breathing heavy.

"Guys, we have company coming in from the bayou. It might be our way out." Jake breathed out. Dior gave him a knowing look and quickly took for the door, Jake following close behind.

Sam gave Su-Jin one last glance and said, "I'll be back for you, I promise." And then he was gone. His long legs took him to where he needed to be, his heart working as a magnet to get back to Dean, despite how cheesy it sounded.

And then he saw him just as he was stepping out of the boat. Mary was sleeping in Bobby's arms, and Sam swore he'd get to her next, but the first thing he wanted was to kiss Dean. He didn't even have it in him to care about who saw.

"Sammy." Dean sighed, his smile full of relief. Sam could feel tears prickle at his eyes, he was so close, so close that he could practically smell his cologne.

But then Dean's expression shifted, something of pure shock that rendered him mute for a few seconds. Sam didn't even have time to question it, because something sharp was digging into his spine.

"_Sam_!" Was the last thing he heard before his world went black.

* * *

**Author's Note: sorry if this was all over the place. It's been awhile since I've had to write fight scenes. Anyway, hope you enjoyed! Despite the big cliffhanger lol.**


	9. Chapter Seven

Dean remembered feeling hopeful.

He remembered feeling almost excited as he held onto Mary and kept her warm during the boat ride. It was like he could feel Sam already. Like he was so close to having everything he wanted again.

But then reality set in and reminded him how cruel life truly was.

Sam had been _right there_. All Dean had to do was reach out, but it was too late.

Dean wasn't fast enough.

There was a man behind Sam that hadn't been there before. A man with curly black hair and regret in his brown eyes as he dug a blade into Sam's spine.

"Sam!" Dean yelled as he fell to his knees and caught his baby brother before he could fall to the ground. Dean could hardly hear Dior in the background, and some other man in a uniform yelling as they chased after the mysterious man.

All Dean could see was Sam as life slipped away from his hazel eyes. Dean held him close; didn't want to see the blood dripping from his open mouth. He wrapped his arms around him, his hand immediately covering the wound in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding.

"Sammy, baby, come on, come on," Dean begged as his other hand carded through chestnut colored hair.

"Please..." Dean sobbed out into the night air, almost like he was praying.

* * *

The boat ride across the bayou was silent.

Bria held onto Dior on deck with Jake was close by as he was holding an unusually quiet Mary while Bobby drove. And if he had been seen wiping away stray tears, no one thought to question it.

Dean had been in the back, still holding on to Sam, and no one dared told him to do otherwise.

Getting off the boat had been the hard part. Dean refused help, and carried Sam's body all the way to the Impala despite the deadweight. Bobby had tried to speak to him, but Dean couldn't hear anything other than the loop going on in his head: Sammy, Sammy, Sammy.

And Dean was sure it was never going to end.

* * *

Despite a confused glance from Bria, Dior gave Bobby the key to her private cabin. It was secluded enough that it didn't look suspicious when they were carrying a body into it. Dean had actually accepted Bobby's help that time, his back sore from before.

Dean hadn't moved from his spot beside Sam's bedside, Bobby realized after he managed to get Mary to sleep. He placed a hesitant hand on Dean's shoulder, not at all surprised by the man's slight wince.

"Dean, I'm sorry. You two... y'all deserved better." Bobby wasn't exactly sure what he meant by that, but at that point, it didn't matter. Bobby would have preferred _anything_ over this.

Bobby should have tried harder to talk Sam out of the yellow eyed demon mess. Bobby couldn't shake the thought that if he had managed to find the right words, the appropriate actions, they wouldn't be in this situation.

He also knew that Sam was stubborn. That he'd find a way. The thought made Bobby let out a long sigh. Maybe this was the inevitable end, though it hurt to think it.

"Your father should be here for this..." Bobby said after Dean didn't respond. He couldn't help but regret it after saying it out loud. John did abandon Sam, after all.

"He's dead, Bobby." Dean said, his tone thick with gravel. "Even if he wasn't, that bastard wouldn't deserve to see Sam like this." He took Sam's hand in his as he finished his sentence.

Bobby was taken off guard. How could he have never known John passed away? Bobby shook his head; he couldn't worry about that right then. No matter how much he wanted to.

His hand slipped off Dean's shoulder and let out a shaky sigh. "When morning comes..." Bobby trailed off, not needing to say anymore. Dean knew what he meant. He wasn't ready to hear it out loud though. Bobby simply left them be.

Once the door was shut behind them, Dean let out a ragged sob, the grip on Sam's cold hand impossibly tighter.

Nothing made sense. It was just three nights ago when they'd made love. It felt like they were close to starting over.

Dean was never one to get what he wanted.

But then it finally came to him. It was a whisper of a thought when Bobby had brought up John, that there might be a solution in his journal. Dean wasn't sure why he even kept it, if he was being honest. It was in his father's will that Dean be left with the journal while Adam got everything else. Dean had half a mind to throw it out.

For this one instance, he was glad that he didn't.

"Be right back, Sammy." Dean promised as he snuck out to the Impala. He had the journal hidden in his trunk, tucked away under blankets. He used his phone's flashlight to read every page, to find the thing he'd heard other hunter's mention before.

"There it is.." Dean mumbled triumphantly as he finally found the section on Crossroad demons. It seemed ridiculous somehow that he was even considering this, seeing as it was a demon that got them caught up into that mess.

But the thing Dean for sure was that he couldn't live without Sam. He almost ended his life before, countless times. The only thing that really stopped him was he fact that Sam was still out there. And if he didn't have Sam...

Dean didn't want to think about that. Not yet. The thought alone made his throat go dry. This demon was his only chance at having Sam back, at having some type of life worth living.

He gathered the ingredients, most of which he already had or Bobby had in his car, and he found himself at a crossroads just a couple hours later.

It didn't take long before a young man presented himself in front of Dean. He was beautiful; his skin tan and hair a strawberry blond. He looked up at Dean innocently, and then in a flash, his eyes turned red.

"Dean Winchester." The demon purred, "How can I help you?" He put his hand on his hip, his lips turned up in a smirk. Dean let out a long sigh and his fists balled at his sides.

"My soul for my brother's life." Dean said, his tone tight. The demon looked him over and licked his pink lips, humming an old song. Then those blue eyes flashed red, and a frown fell onto his otherwise flawless features.

The demon took a step forward, his nimble fingers falling onto Dean's tense shoulders. "It's such a shame, really. I really was looking forward to sealing the deal with you." He breathed out as his hand found its way to Dean's bearded cheek.

Dean grabbed his hand, his anger evident in his green eyes. "What the hell are you talking about?" He ground out, his grip tight on the demon, but not enough to actually hurt him thanks to their pain tolerance.

"Looks like dear baby brother is in a place that not even I can touch. So sorry." The demon said while ripping his hand away from Dean's grasp.

Dean stood there, mouth agape. This was his only hope. "No... there has to be some mistake. Please, I-" Dean sucked in a deep breath, "I _need_ my brother."

At this, the demon only laughed, the sound like knives to Dean's ears. "Oh, every demon is well aware of how much-" His words cut off in his throat, his red eyes wide. "No!" He yelled, the light in his eyes flickering back to the normal blue as black smoke flew out of his mouth and completely dissolved into the night sky.

The demon's vessel fell to the ground, somehow still breathing, and standing in its place was someone else. A man with dark hair, a long trench coat, and a barely there shadow of two wings marking the thicket behind him.

* * *

**Author's Note: this chapter was so so sad to write. The next one, as usual, will be in Sam's point of view. Prepare yourself for even darker themes. The tags/warnings will be updated accordingly. Hope you enjoyed this chapter anyway!**


	10. Chapter Eight

Sam had no idea how long he'd been laying there in the darkness. It felt like years. He'd tried walking around when he first awoke there, but it was no use. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do but wallow in the loneliness.

He had no doubt that he was dead. He remembered the feeling of a knife in his back, Dean calling out for him, and then nothing.

Sam never even got to hold Mary one last time.

The young Winchester couldn't help but feel useless as he laid there, playing back each time he was a horrible father in his head. He'd spent weeks worrying about the demon and nothing else while his first and only priority should have been his daughter.

And then there was Dean, the man who deserved way better than Sam was ever able to give. Sam hoped Dean wouldn't do anything reckless that would send him to something like this.

Sam had hoped heaven was real, had even prayed for it. Sam guessed he would have preferred hell over... this.

"Samuel Winchester," A deep voice echoed through the black nothingness, cutting him out of his thoughts. He tried to ignore it at first, deciding it was just in his head. But then there was something that felt like a hand on shoulder, and Sam couldn't deny that.

He jumped to his feet and looked all around him. There was still nothing but darkness.

"Who's there?" Sam demanded.

There was no answer at first. Sam let out an exasperated sob and dug the balls of his hands in his eyes. The last thing he needed was to be hearing voices.

When he opened his eyes, his brother was in front of him. There was no more darkness, just green grass and a thicket behind him. Dean was right there, eyes bright and smile wide.

"Dean." Sam breathed out in disbelief. He took a step closer, hand stretched out until it made contact with his cheek. Dean leaned into the touch and looked up at Sam. The younger brother let out another sob and pressed their foreheads together, his fingers carding themselves in his hair.

"Sammy." Dean had said, but it wasn't his voice. It was deeper, more cutting. "Sweet little Sammy."

The background melted away and suddenly Sam was thrown back into the darkness and fell to his knees. The thing that looked like Dean was gone, and was suddenly replaced with a soft laugh that echoed throughout the blank space.

Sam recognized it instantly.

"Carina..." Sam mumbled just as her arms wrapped around his shoulders. He knew it wasn't really her, but he couldn't find it in him not to lean into her embrace.

"You let me die, Sam..." Carina whispered, "You... failed me..." Her words were cold and cutting, just like Dean's. It made Sam breakdown, babbling about how sorry he was. He never meant to let her die. Despite everything, he _did_ love her.

It didn't take long before her embrace was gone, and soon replaced by a young woman facing the front of him. It was Su-Jin, and she was on her knees, arms wrapped around herself, still in Sam's coat. Blood dripped down the side of her face, staining her once bright blue hair. It ended in splatters all over his jacket, forever marking it.

"I didn't want to die, Sam. I was only fifteen. It's not _fair_." She sobbed out and it felt like a stab to Sam's heart. He sucked in a sharp breath, tried his best to form words, but it was no use. His chest constricted as she dissolved into the black floor, leaving him alone.

What he saw next completely broke him.

He shook his head vigorously as Mary wobbled her way over to him, "No, no, please... I can't..." Sam sobbed out as her little hand reached out for him. Sam knew it wasn't real. Mary wasn't really there with him. But the image in front of him looked up at him with her eyes, bright and curious as ever.

Until they weren't.

Bright red eyes replaced hers and Sam shut his eyes to block out the sight. The sound of rustling made him tense but he refused to look up to see whatever the hell was coming to torment him that time.

"Open your eyes, boy."

For whatever reason, the sound of that voice took him back to a place when he was nothing more than a sniffling child.

"Stop your crying, son. You know boys aren't supposed to cry." John said, his eyes and tone cold just like Sam remembered, the same tone he always had after a long hunt and he didn't feel like dealing with two kids at once.

"I'm _sick_ of your whining!" He yelled, his frustration making little Sam jump and whimper. John sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, revealing a deep sadness behind his hazel eyes, "I'm going out. Dean, take care of your brother."

A crusty old motel door dissipated into smoke on his way out, leaving behind a young Dean Winchester. Sam blinked up at him, at his sympathetic smile, and watched as he walked his way over to him.

"You know he means well, Sammy." Dean said as he wiped away his little brother's tears. "Come on, let's go watch some cartoons."

Sam was at a loss for words as his brother took his hand to guide him to a TV that was nowhere in sight. Instead, Sam pulled him into a tight embrace and sobbed into his chest.

"De, De," Sam gasped, and his sobs only got worse once Dean finally returned the hug. He ran his fingers through Sam's hair and Sam relished the feeling, fake or not.

"I wish you were really here... I need you, big brother." He whispered into the fabric of Dean's shirt. The hands in his hair stilled, but Sam refused to look up. He was scared it would all just disappear if he did. And he desperately needed this.

"You could see him... The real him... if you wanted... do you want that, Sam?" The image of Dean asked, and the question caused him to finally look up. This vision was nicer than the rest. More calm, more soothing.

"More than anything... _yes_."

It smiled down at Sam and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss against his forehead.

The next thing Sam saw was a bright, almost blinding light. For whatever reason, that didn't startle Sam. He was warm, and he was safe, right in the arms of his his big brother.

And then his eyes opened, unbeknownst to the young Sam, iris bright red and grin rabid as he waited for the exit that was soon to come.

* * *

**Author's Note: I know, it's been way too long, and I don't have enough to show for it. Work has been kicking my butt lately and it's been hard to be inspired during this time.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this mess of a chapter.**


	11. Chapter Nine

"What in the hell-" Bobby whisper-shouted as to not wake up Mary. He jumped from the couch as soon as Dean and a man he didn't know barreled inside the cabin.

They both ignored him and went directly to the room where Sam's body laid. Dean was determined to make this right, he didn't have time to explain it to Bobby just yet. He was trying to lead the angel to Sam, but it seemed as though he already knew where to go. He raised his palm and hovered it over the expanse of the youngest Winchester's body, his eyes glowing, a gentle light that time. Not the same blinding light from earlier that night.

Bobby couldn't help but be mesmerized at the scene before him. He watched as the man, or whatever the hell he was, placed his hand on Sam's forehead. He said no words, not even after he finally retracted his hand away. He looked up at Dean and gave him a curt nod.

That was all it took for Bobby to finally come back to his senses and grip at Dean's shoulder. "What just happened? And what is that?" He asked as he motioned his hand over towards the man's direction.

"I am Castiel. I am an angel. As for what just happened, I persevered Samuel's body." Castiel answered simply, like it wasn't a big deal at all. Dean pulled himself out of Bobby's grasp so he could finally walk up to Sam again, his palm taking the place Castiel just had, his fingers gently carding through his hair.

"You'll be back soon, Sammy..." Dean promised and Bobby could feel his hands start to shake. After all his years of hunting, he had never once heard of someone coming back to life.

Though everything in him wanted Sam back, it didn't sit right with him. He was always told what was dead was supposed to stay that way. Hell, he'd just spent the last few hours trying to convince himself of that as he silently cried while holding an oddly quiet Mary.

"This isn't right, Dean. We need... we need to move on." Bobby said carefully. His words still caused Dean's head to whip around, a fire in his eyes that the older man had never seen before.

"Don't give me that shit. Sam doesn't deserve this and you know it. We're getting him back, with or without you." Dean ground out as he walked past the older man to start packing Mary's diaper bag.

Castiel stood in the corner, obvious to the altercation happening around him. He toyed with something in his pocket as Bobby cursed under his breath and followed Dean into the living room where Mary was sleeping soundly in her bassinet that she was slowly getting too big for.

"Dean." Bobby tried as Dean stuffed stray diapers and toys into the plush bag. "Dean," Bobby said again, but this time with a hand on the younger man's arm, gentler that time.

"What?!" Dean whisper-shouted, dropping the bag onto the couch. He looked at Bobby with his features steeled away, ready to dismiss every attempt at logic the older man was going to throw at him. Instead, he was greeted with Bobby's sad eyes. Dean didn't know exactly how to deal with that.

"I said that I'd be here for you and I meant it. No matter what, Dean. I refuse to make the same mistakes I made in the past." Bobby said, his tone tight like he wasn't exactly sure if he should be saying all this.

"Bobby..." Dean's eyes shifted away, suddenly uncomfortable. He was never good at talking about feelings. He never did like to acknowledge just how much it hurt to be abandoned by his uncle Bobby. "I appreciate it, I really do. And of course I want you to stay, but we have more important things to deal with right now."

Dean let out a long sigh as he explained to Bobby what Castiel had told him. Sam, his precious Sammy, was stuck in hell.

And not just hell. In a cage. Locked tight.

With _Lucifer_.

Just as Bobby was going to respond, a bright light burst from the room Sam's body lay, and all it took was for it to finally dissipate for the two men to run in. Castiel was beside an empty bed, his eyes glowing just like before, a small box in hand.

"What the hell?! What did you do?" Dean yelled out. Before he knew it, he had the angel pressed up against the wall, his fists balled into the collar of his trench coat. Mary woke with a loud cry, but that did nothing to deter Dean's anger.

Castiel's face remained stoic as he replied, "Samuel is fine." That only served to piss Dean off more. He couldn't believe he trusted any supernatural creature with this. He needed Sam nearby, he needed to see him, to feel him. Couldn't let him slip away again.

"He is safe, Dean. His body is in here, in this exact replica of Pandora's box." Castiel said as he raised his palm to show the thing that looked like nothing more than a child's toy. "I know humans don't like to see a dead body being carried around. I thought this would make things easier. I apologize for upsetting you."

Dean let go with a long sigh and dragged his hand over his face. He could hear Bobby working to calm Mary down, and it was just starting to work when he looked back down at the angel in front of him. No matter how much he hated to admit it, Castiel had a point.

"It's fine. Just keep him safe, okay? Nothing can happen to him." Dean said as he finally turned away, his eyes falling to his own haphazardly thrown bag. His father's journal poked out through the zipper.

"We have work to do."

* * *

**Author's Note: another short chapter and I have no excuse. I hope this turned out okay. The plot will get thick again soon, I promise.**


	12. Chapter Ten

**Warnings: this chapter contains weecest smut. Proceed with caution.  
**

* * *

"Come on, Sammy. The water's not that cold!"

Sixteen years old Sam Winchester looked over at his older brother and chuckled nervously as he splashed through the otherwise empty lake. Dean was naked, his muscles glistening with water and sunlight. That always made Sam nervous.

"You say that," Sam said through a grunt as he pulled his shirt over his body, "but somehow I don't believe you." He dropped it to the ground and worked to pull down his shorts next. For some odd reason, he wasn't expecting his big brother's adoring stare the moment he finally looked up.

"...what?" Sam murmured shyly. He took a cautious step, his cheeks pink as Dean's eyes raked up and down his body. His toes made contact with the water just as his brother opened his mouth, the warmth of it all taking the young man off guard.

"You're beautiful." Dean said it like it was just a simple fact of life. Sam's blush deepened under the praise. He still wasn't used to it. He wasn't sure if he ever would.

Sam couldn't come up with a rebuttal. He couldn't find it in him to argue. His body just moved all on its own until it was just a few inches away from Dean.

Sam was just a bit shorter than Dean, something that should have been easy to ignore. He was the little brother after all. But something in him told him he was supposed to be taller. Older than he was right then. Maybe a little broader, too.

That voice was easy to ignore as Dean reached out to lay a hand on the small of Sam's back. He pulled him in with ease until the younger man was flush against his chest.

Sam couldn't exactly pinpoint the exact moment their relationship changed. It was something that just was and Sam couldn't find it in him to question it. He didn't need an explanation when he had the love of his life right in front of him, kissing him soft and slow.

Sam jumped under the water and let his legs wrap around Dean's waist. The older brother had to steady himself, holding on even tighter as he let out a breathy laugh against Sammy's lips.

Sam couldn't help but feel happy. He always was when Dean was right there beside him, even when he was being an annoying big brother. But especially in that moment when Dean's kisses trailed lower and stopped just at his pulse point.

"De," Sam gasped as the kissing turned into a hard suck. Dean liked to mark him. He didn't care about what anyone had to say, especially dad, who gave up trying to separate them long ago. It felt like forever since the last time he had seen John. He'd grown distant; leaving Dean the impala and letting him have Sammy all to his self.

Sam couldn't find it in him to miss his father all that much as Dean squeezed at his bare ass, growling, "Mine," into his ear. Young Samuel shivered against him, his grip tight around his shoulders. The intensity shifted though as Dean began to chuckle mischievously.

"Dean-" Sam tried just before he was dunked under the water. He was only under for a few seconds before Dean let him back up, his laugh echoing though the forest. Sam grumbled and slapped at his brother's bare chest.

Dean still had his dumb grin on his face as he pushed Sam's wet hair away from his eyes. "Couldn't resist." He said against his baby brother's temple. Sam grunted in response and then smirked to himself, his hand drifting into the water and wrapping itself around Dean's cock. It caused his older brother to stiffen and stare down at Sam with wide eyes. It was a bold move for the young Winchester.

Dean's grip tightened around Sam as the hand around his length moved up and down in slow strokes. His already half hard length was growing bigger and it really only excited Sam more.

He didn't notice the clouds start to darken around them, he was too distracted by the fact that Dean was carrying them to dry land. Sam instinctively fell to his knees in front of his older brother.

Dean never really was scared about pushing Sam too far. Something about that seemed off to Sam, like somehow he remembered Dean being overly cautious with their relationship. Sam shook his head, forcing those thoughts out of his head. He didn't want to question this. He simply opened his mouth, eyes cast upwards.

"Good boy," Dean ground out as he slipped his cock inside Sammy's warm mouth. The younger Winchester moaned around it and quickly went to work, bobbing his head up and down, taking in the whole thing with no trouble.

Sam's eyes fluttered shut as his hands roamed Dean's wet thighs, fingerings carding through the hairs. He could smell all of Dean in that moment, his natural musk mixed in the smell of the forest. It was intoxicating. He could hardly feel the light sprinkle of raindrops against his back. The only thing he could pay attention to was his brother's rough hands in his hair, guiding him.

"Fuck," Dean breathed out, his grip tight in Sammy's hair. He held the boy still and moved all on his own, his hips bucking into his baby brother's willing mouth. Sam's eyes shot open and looked up at Dean, his drool dripping down his chin. He could suddenly feel the rain on his skin, could see the sky darkening around them.

"Focus on me, Sammy." Somehow, that was all it took. Sam's attention fell only to Dean, and that caused the older boy to smirk. "Touch yourself." Dean ordered through gritted teeth. Sam did as he was told, his hand gripping tightly around his neglected length.

Dean's pace was brutal. It almost hurt as the head repeatedly hit the back of Sam's throat. His gag reflex suddenly appeared as his throat spasmed around his brother's cock. The sounds spilling from the teenager only spurred Dean on, his growls of pleasure almost inhuman. Sam's pace on his own length did not cease, however. In fact, it only got faster, the tip glistening with pre.

Sam's hazel eyes rolled back as Dean fucked his mouth, his orgasm drawing closer with each stroke of his hand. It was like he was numb to everything; numb to the cold rain on his already wet skin, numb to the sound of thunder, numb to everything but the pleasure of having Dean use him like that.

"I'm close," The older boy ground out, and that paired with his erratic movements caused Sam to whimper pathetically. His own orgasm was ripping though him already, making his body convulse. Tears fell from his eyes as Dean held head down and filled his throat with warm come.

Sam's heart was pounding in his ears, eyes bleary, but he swore he could see Dean's eyes turn red as his cock slipped from his mouth. He had no chance to comment on it though as thunder and lightening crashed around them, the wind so harsh it caused a tree to tear from its roots and fall over, crashing and screaming—

_"Sam!"_

The sound of his name echoed in his head as his world turned black.

_"Sammy, Please,"_ The voice begged. It didn't take long for Sam to realize the voice belonged to his brother. He couldn't open his mouth to respond, he couldn't even open his eyes. Cries mixed in with the pleas, but those particular sounds couldn't belong to Dean. Why was a baby crying? Sam's head was swimming and his heart ached. He felt an unfamiliar urge to hold the baby, to soothe it.

He felt as though he was drowning. Water filled his lungs and there was nothing but pain. It felt as though as his body and soul were being torn apart. And then finally, after what felt like hours of pure agony, he saw light. For a moment he had thought it was heaven and that he saw an angel with dark hair and glowing eyes, pulling him in.

Sam welcomed it.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed!**


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